


American Witch

by jessicadamien



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 76,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicadamien/pseuds/jessicadamien
Summary: Unfamiliar erms used in this chapter:Everto--To overturn; to eject.Extollo--To elevate.Mutatio Lepus--To transform into a rabbit.Suspendo--To suspend; to hang.





	1. Snape's New Assignment

Chapter One  
Snape’s New Assignment

“Severus, if I could have a word with you?”

Snape bit back the refusal that was on the tip of his tongue. He’d almost made his escape from the Great Hall without the headmaster’s interference. Three more steps and he would have been in the relative isolation of his dungeon rooms. Knowing that wouldn’t have stopped Dumbledore from seeking him out, and also knowing he couldn’t refuse the request, he nodded briefly and followed the old wizard to his office.

He sank into the armchair farthest from the fire, silently accepting the inevitable cup of tea and waving away the proffered lemon drop. Waiting for the tea to cool enough to sip, he watched as Albus sat in the chair opposite, almost relieved to see the serious expression on the old man’s face. At least it wouldn’t be a request to partake of one of his more frivolous ideas. Something was up, and if it required cooperation from Snape, then perhaps it something no one else could help him with. He always felt more useful in these situations, and it made his existence seem worthwhile.

“You’ve made the acquaintance of our new History of Magic apprentice?”

“Yes, briefly.” Lisa Carus. The recently imported American witch. He pictured the tall young woman in his mind’s eye, seeing again the thick, wavy hair that was a light-brown color, trying to be blonde. He’d never seen her smile, even in greeting someone. He hadn’t gone close enough to see the color of her eyes. Under her robes, the shape of her body was a mystery. But her general aura had been disturbing to him; he hadn’t felt compelled to get to know her.

“What do you know about her?” Albus’ voice broke into his thoughts, and he briefly summed up the introduction Albus himself had made when introducing Miss Carus to the staff two months ago. Albus’ eyes twinkled, recognizing his own speech. Snape knew he wouldn’t get away with it; it was simply his subtle way of letting the headmaster know that he had no intention of getting to know the lovely Miss Carus any better than was absolutely necessary.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that, Severus. The two of you will be working closely together at times.”

“In what way, Headmaster? I rarely need the aid of history in my Potions lectures, and I wouldn’t think she’d need Potions in order to teach her classes.”

“But you’ll need to rely on each other for your very lives, once she’s admitted to Voldemort’s inner circle.”

Snape was struck dumb. What on earth would possess Albus Dumbledore to subject yet another soul to the Dark Lord’s whims? Before he could form words to ask the question, Dumbledore answered it.

“She has proven to be as skilled as you in Occlumency, and she can look me right in the eye and tell me that my parents were never married. She almost had me believing it.”

He frowned, not understanding the reference. What would she know of Dumbledore’s parents?

Albus smiled at Snape’s confusion. “She called me a bastard,” he explained, “because I tried Legilimency on her, just to test her skills, and she didn’t appreciate it. It did no good, I should add. I couldn’t get through her barriers. Even though I surprised her by trying, it couldn’t be done.”

“And why were you trying?”

“I find it reassuring to know the limits of the people around me,” Albus explained. “But when I found out how strong that particular skill in her was, I became intrigued. You know that it’s because you’re such a skilled Occlumens that I ever decided to use you as a spy. And she has that same skill.”

“Why do you need another spy? Are you losing faith in me?”

“Of course not. But by your own admission, you’re on shaky ground with Voldemort lately. What better way to show your alleged loyalty to him than to offer him another recruit?”

Snape digested this information quietly, but with his mind racing. To offer up, for the Dark Lord’s pleasure and vanity, an innocent witch? It would take more than Occlumency skills to protect herself. He knew Albus worried each time Snape had been summoned to Lord Voldemort’s presence; how could he even entertain the idea of sending someone else as well?

Although the Dark Lord was always on the lookout for more Dark witches and wizards, he was slow to trust them. The first thing he would think of when he was presented with Miss Carus would be something no woman in her right mind would agree to. And yet ...

It had been roughly two years since anything perverted had gone on during a revel. Lord Voldemort had been enraged because of his thwarted attempt to possess and kill Harry Potter. Dumbledore had come along in time to save the boy, and the Dark Lord had taken out his frustrations by ordering the capture and enslavement, for a few hours, of the first female Muggles the Dark Wizards could find. But, as Snape recalled, Lord Voldemort himself hadn’t been physically involved in the ‘party’. He had kept a close eye on everything that had gone on, but hadn’t used any of the women himself.

Now Snape wondered if it was because of physical limitations. When the Dark Lord had recreated himself after the Triwizard Tournament, had he been completely recreated? Perhaps some vital ingredient in his potion and ritual had been lacking.

The summons had been coming more frequently in the last couple of years, but still no more than about three times each year. The meetings were usually simple gatherings aimed at an exchange of information. Knowing the Dark Lord for as many years as he had, Snape feared that one of the more debauched revels was just about due. Could he stall the headmaster until after that time? It would give Miss Carus much more time to learn how to best protect herself during a revel.

He realized he was already thinking of this as _fait accompli._ “Has Miss Carus agreed to this?”

“Tentatively. Understandably, she wants to know more about what she can expect, and how best to protect herself. That’s why you’re here.”

“I’m to teach her all about Lord Voldemort?”

“Who better? She knows as much about him as everyone else, but what she needs is for you to tell her what it’s like to be a Death Eater; what the meetings are like, and what will be required of her. She could also use some tutoring in her various magical strengths, like Occlumency. Also, you might consider trying to teach her Legilimency.”

“Aren’t you worried I might try to talk her out of it?”

“I expect you to try,” Dumbledore admitted. “She’s a born rebel, Severus, so I don’t think you’ll talk her out of anything she wants to do. And if she does decide not to, she needs to know that we’ll not hold it against her.”

“And what are her various magical strengths? Aside from Occlumency, that is.”

“She’s capable of wandless magic, for one thing. She has an ability to enter into someone’s dreams, under certain circumstances.”

“She can enter someone else’s dreams? How is that possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I don’t know how it works, Severus. I, too, have missed seeing this skill in anyone else. Perhaps it has something to do with her American education. Who’s to say what they consider important over there?”

“And you want me to strengthen her Occlumency skills? I thought you said they were equal to my own.”

“I believe it couldn’t hurt,” Albus said. “I may be a little rusty, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Snape leaned forward, setting his forgotten teacup on the table and resting his elbows on his knees. Looking down at the floor, he contemplated all Dumbledore had told him. Lessons in Occlumency, Legilimency, and a crash course in how to survive as a spy. Was she up to all that? Was he?

All he knew was that he didn’t like the idea of working so closely with her. He hadn’t been able to place the feeling of disquiet that had come over him when he’d first seen her upon her arrival to Hogwarts. Was it her physical charms that unnerved him? It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, and she was the youngest, most attractive member of staff that there’d been since before he’d come along.

Or was it something underneath the surface? Like a veela, she had most of the men drooling after her already. He’d overheard the ribbing among some of the male students, taunting each other about having a crush on the new teacher, and there was a lot less absenteeism among the first years, which was the class she taught.

There was another possibility. The trepidation that he felt in her presence was remarkably similar to what he felt in the company of some of his less honorable acquaintances. Wizards like Malfoy and Goyle, for example, had always caused him to keep on his toes. Was this that same feeling?

He looked up at Dumbledore, realizing the wizard had been silently waiting all this time for an answer. “I think,” he said slowly, “all things considered, I had better agree.”

Albus, the twinkle back in his eyes, stood, escorting Severus to the door. “The sooner you begin, the better,” he said. “She’ll be expecting you to meet her in your office at seven tonight.”

As the door closed behind him, he wryly wondered what would have happened if he’d flat-out refused the old man’s ‘request’.


	2. Defense Lessons with Snape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfamiliar erms used in this chapter:
> 
> Everto--To overturn; to eject.  
> Extollo--To elevate.  
> Mutatio Lepus--To transform into a rabbit.  
> Suspendo--To suspend; to hang.

Chapter Two  
Defense Lessons with Snape

He forced himself to wait until he heard her knock the second time before he waved his wand to open the door, allowing her to step inside. He sat quietly behind his desk, watching her come forward until she could seat herself on top of the student’s desk before his own. She didn’t stand before him, meekly waiting, but brazenly lounged on the desk. He despised the casual attitudes of Americans.

“I’m here at Professor Dumbledore’s request,” she began. “He suggested that I--”

“I know why you’re here,” he said, cutting her off. “I wonder if you do.”

“Why don’t you tell me why you think I’m here,” she said, not put off by his harshness.

“The headmaster seems to think you’re up to facing Lord Voldemort as one of his own. I wonder if you’ve any idea what that would entail? And why you think you can do it?”

“I have no idea what that would entail. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been sent to you. And I _don’t_ think I can do it, but I suppose I’d better go through the motions so he can’t claim I didn’t think it through before refusing.”

“Albus seems to think that because you’re a skilled Occlumens, you have all the weapons you need to survive the Dark Lord’s attentions. I think that being skilled at Occlumency is only the beginning. It would help you to be quick with your defensive abilities, blocking unfriendly spells and such things as that. And, I suppose, having a death wish might make things easier as well.”

“So, what do you suggest I tell Albus?”

“How should I know? What do you _want_ to tell him?”

“I want to tell him it would be dangerous to send me to Voldemort. That I have no way of protecting myself, or to dig out information Albus thinks is so vital for the Order, and that I wish very much to be left alone to live my life as I see fit. I’m not really one to champion a cause.”

“Do you have any idea what benefit this information sometimes proves to be for the Order?”

“I can imagine. But it just doesn’t feel like something I should stick my nose into.”

“This is your world, too, Miss Carus. If everyone here had your attitude, we’d be working for the Dark Lord instead of Albus Dumbledore, and the Ministry would be run by Death Eaters. You can’t just hide and let everyone else do the fighting for you.”

“And now you’re trying to talk me into it, instead of out of it,” she shot back. “Do you like how you came full circle on that one?”

He seethed inside, realizing she’d just played him like a pawn on a chessboard. “When you walked into this room, you had every intention of becoming a part of this fight, didn’t you? Had Albus warned you that I would try to talk you out of it?”

“No, Minerva McGonagall did.”

That was interesting. He wasn’t aware Minerva had known about this meeting. “What, exactly, did Minerva say?”

“She said you were a reclusive, snide, jaded, stick-in-the-mud who would do just about anything to resist change.”

He inwardly smiled at the description. “And you’re all for change, is that it?”

“No.”

He waited for her to elaborate, but after a full two minutes, he realized she would not. “Albus said you were a born rebel,” he tried. “Why does he get that impression?”

“I think he _wishes_ I were a born rebel. It would make it easier for him to allow me to do this. If I insist on doing it, then he doesn’t have to feel responsible for my welfare.”

He studied her while running her words over in his mind. She was sitting quietly, patiently waiting for his next question, or for these lessons to commence. Her hair was bound behind her back, and he could see that her face was more oval than round. Her cheekbones were higher than he’d previously noticed, and it appeared she wasn’t wearing anything under her robes. The black color of those robes emphasized the light color of her hair, and he saw blonde streaks in it he hadn’t noticed before. Her eyes were in shadow, so he still couldn’t tell what color they were.

“All things considered,” he said, finally, “do you wish to end this meeting right now? I’ll go along with your explanation to Albus that this isn’t right for you, and that should be the end of it.”

She didn’t move, and he knew she was considering both options.

Unnerved by her silence and penetrating gaze, he rambled on. “Or would you like to begin working on your defensive skills, just in case you decide to meet the Dark Lord one day soon?”

“I think I’d better go along with it,” she decided. “I’d hate to accept Albus’ offer of employment here without giving anything back. I have a feeling it might be the reason he’d hired me in the first place. I know there must have been others up for the post.”

“Did he never tell you why he offered it to you?” He knew Binns had requested a replacement, as he was finally able to come to terms with the fact that he’d been dead for more years than he’d been alive. He wanted to haunt other places now, and the students were reacting positively to the promise of more interesting classes in history than they’d been subjected to in the past.

“Only that I met the qualifications. He said he got my name and contact information from my superiors, but they wouldn’t have given that to him without my approval. The first I’d known of this opening was when Albus contacted me.”

“He would have gotten the information without asking your superiors for it. And you could have turned it down, you know.”

“I didn’t want to.”

Again, no further explanation. What secrets was this young woman hiding? Was she escaping? Was she simply bored with what her life had been in America?

“Have you settled in? Have everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He realized they were mentally circling each other, sizing each other up, each unwilling to blindly accept what was on the surface before them. Perhaps Dumbledore was right in pairing them up together, he thought. They seemed to be of like minds, at least as far as paranoia went. And a little bit of paranoia went hand-in-hand with being a Death Eater for Lord Voldemort while providing intelligence to the Order of the Phoenix.

“The proverbial ball is in your court,” he told her. “What is your next move?”

“I’d like you to teach me to fight off enemy spells,” she said, as if she had the answer waiting.

“That can be quite a vigorous and exhausting lesson,” he answered, half his mind still bent on talking her out of Albus’ latest folly. “Do you feel up to it right now?”

“I’m as ready as I shall ever be,” she replied smoothly.

He stood up, rounding the desk and beckoning her to her feet. As she stood beside him, he waved his wand to clear the desks away, leaving as much space as possible in the middle of the classroom. He looked at her, still trying to figure out what she may or may not be wearing under her robes. “Go to the back of the room and face me,” he said. “We’ll have a duel.”

She walked away wordlessly, and he wondered if she felt nervous at all. It didn’t show, and that ability to mask fear could only help her in her duties as a spy.

When she faced him, he explained the rules of a friendly duel. Foregoing the formal ritual of facing off and walking away the required five steps, he counted to three, and blasted her with a disarming curse. “Expelliarmus!”

A bright light shot out from his wand, but before it reached her, she’d constructed a shield to deflect it. The spell ricocheted off the shield and shot off toward the side of the room, where he watched in amazement as a large chunk of stone was blasted out of the wall.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow in acknowledgement of her display. She shrugged. “I suppose that can be repaired?”

He smiled wryly. “If not, it’ll have to come out of your paycheck.”

She returned his smile. He was caught off-guard. It was the first time he’d seen her smile. She was always so serious-looking, whenever he’d caught sight of her. But she’d smiled today. At him.

He forced his attention back to the lesson. “I believe it’s your serve,” he said. “Give me your best shot.”

A few seconds later, he was struggling to pick himself up from behind his desk, where he’d been thrown by her _Everto._ He leaned over his desk, aiming his wand and calling out, “Extollo!”

Again, she blocked his spell, sending it off to the side, where it lifted a desk near to the ceiling, before the desk came crashing back down to the floor, splintering completely. It had been foul play to curse her without any sort of warning, but he’d seldom been bested by a student, and his ego had acted before his reason. But now he took the opportunity to test her reflexes and survival instincts. He called out another spell as she hurried toward him, obviously concerned he’d been hurt. “Mutatio Lepus!”

Again, she deflected it effortlessly, and he watched in awe as the hourglass on his desk turned into a rabbit. He looked up at her, nonplussed.

“Are you okay, Severus?”

Irritated that she took her skills so much for granted, and further peeved that she’d called him by his first name, which he had not given her permission to do-- _that damned American casualness--_ he shook off her concerns and came around to lean against his desk, studying her once again.

She leaned back against his desk next to him, companionably, and picked up the rabbit, nuzzling it. He stared at her, wondering what she was really all about. His eyes, of their own accord, peeked down the front of her robes, and he was slightly disappointed to see the outline of a white shirt, low-cut and transparent enough to show off the lace trim of her bra. His heart skipped a beat when she unexpectedly looked up at him. Smiling sheepishly, she handed him the fluffy beast. “I suppose you’ll want your hourglass back.”

He held the pink-eyed animal away from him, murmuring a spell. He touched the rabbit with his wand and returned the hourglass back to his desktop. “Shall we?” he asked her. Wordlessly, she began walking back toward the other side of the room.

Still irritated with her, he spitefully called out, “Expelliarmus!” Finally, he thought, watching her wand fly up into the air and fall uselessly to the floor near the door. He shot another spell her way, simply to show her who was boss. “Suspendo!” Much to his surprise, she instantly turned and held out her palm, as if to stop him. He could feel a force, a power, that hadn’t been in the room a second ago, and there seemed to be a breeze around her; it was strong enough to blow the loose strands of hair away from her face. The spell bounced harmlessly away from her to hit the window to the left of him. It shot open, allowing the fresh air of fall into the dank room.

He turned back to her. _Wandless magic, how could I forget?_

She was frowning. “In the back, Severus?”

“You’ll have to learn to expect worse from Voldemort and company. I was testing your reflexes.”

“Of course you were. Do I pass?”

He allowed a conciliatory smile to touch his lips. “With flying colors, Miss Carus.”

“My name is Lisa.”

“I know that, Miss Carus. And mine is Professor Snape. Have you had enough of the duel?”

“I suppose,” she said. “Should we try Occlumency?”

He nodded silently. Waving his wand at two desks, he moved them back to the center of the room and seated himself on one while motioning her to the other. “Clear yourself of all emotion,” he began. “Don’t let me enter your mind.” He looked into her eyes, noting for the first time that they were green. Bright green, flecked with Hell’s own black. Eyes that could distract the strongest of Legilimens...

He concentrated, hoping he’d get to her before she had a chance to brace herself. This lesson had become quite a challenge for him. He felt compelled to take her beyond her skills, to show her his level of skill, and possibly even inflict the smallest amount of pain. And this particular lesson would give him the chance to probe into whatever secrets she thought she could keep from her betters.

He fought against the barrier she’d erected, knowing that his superior skill and strength, and if all else failed, his persistence alone, would break it down eventually. He tamped down the feeling of triumph at the sensation that he was almost there, he’d almost broken through her defenses. But too late, he realized that he hadn’t stored his most unsettling memories in his Pensieve. Should she reverse this process...

That brief instant of distraction was his undoing. She’d been fighting all this time, and was now pushing along the mental pathway he’d opened up. He struggled to gain back the ground he’d lost; it was vital that he defend his memories against her impending intrusion. He put a final, exuberant burst of energy into his will, and forced it toward her, throwing everything he had at her.

He was startled out of his concentration as she was thrown from the desk she’d been sitting at, flying backward until she met the desk against the wall. She crashed into it, then fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. He was on his feet, running to her, cursing himself out loud at his thoughtlessness. She began to sit up, shaking her head to clear it.

“Miss Carus! Are you all right? Can you stand?” He helped her to her feet, looking into her eyes to see if he could tell the level of pain she was suffering.

“I’m okay,” she said, testing her legs and rubbing her back. “That’s a hell of a curse. What was that, anyway?”

“It wasn’t a curse; I was just pushing away your Legilimency attempt,” he said. “Our forces opposed each other until yours gave way. I’m afraid I was a little overzealous, and for that, I apologize.”

She waved away his apology. “You mean, I was using Legilimency? I didn’t think I could. I don’t know how.”

“I presume it’s a matter of instinct,” he said. “I don’t remember exactly how one begins using the skill. I don’t remember a time when I couldn’t do it. Your Occlumency skills, by the way, are extraordinary, especially for a beginner.”

“Who said I was a beginner?”

He let go of her, staring. “I guess I just more or less assumed... How long have you been using Occlumency?”

She frowned, and he noted the evasiveness in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she equivocated. “It’s just something I’ve always done. I didn’t know there was a word for it until my fourth or fifth year of school.”

“Would you like to move on to something else for now?”

“I wouldn’t mind just getting some information about Voldemort and some of the Death Eaters I can expect to come into contact with,” she answered.

He followed as she made her way back to the desk, noting with dismay how stiffly she carried herself. “Miss Carus, are you quite sure you don’t need medical attention?”

“I’m sure.”

She was so annoyingly troublesome with her failure to elaborate on her answers. He’d never fathom any of her secrets if she answered only questions she was asked. He noticed that the last few steps to get to her seat were markedly free from limping, as if she willed herself not to show her pain. Since it wasn’t in his nature to coddle anyone, he’d let it go. Perhaps by the end of their lesson tonight, her aches and pains would be gone anyway.

“If you’re still willing to start off on this fool’s mission,” he began, “I will introduce the idea to Lord Voldemort that I know of a potential recruit to his cause. I’ll then tell him everything about you that is safe for us to reveal. He won’t know about your skills as an Occlumens; and he doesn’t need to know about your budding skills in Legilimency either. I’m told that you have a unique ability to enter into someone else’s dreams; he has no need to know that.

“By the way, I wouldn’t mind knowing a bit more about that particular skill myself. How is it possible to enter a dream that isn’t your own?”

“I don’t know.”

He stared at her, vowing he wouldn’t say another word until she added something to her unsatisfying answer. It took a while, but she finally took a deep breath, preparing to speak. He leaned forward unconsciously to listen.

“I draw air into my lungs, sending oxygen to all parts of my body, and expelling carbon dioxide. My brain keeps this function happening, even while I’m asleep. I don’t know how that works, either, but I know it does. Likewise, I just don’t know how it’s possible for me to enter into a dream that isn’t mine.”

After a few more uncomfortable moments of silence, he was forced to concede that she wasn’t hiding anything up her sleeve; she really didn’t know how it worked. Who really knew how any magic worked? They all learned how to work it, but to know what made the power leave a wizard’s wand to destroy or repair? To change something or to enchant? How important was it that he knew how anything worked, so long as he could rely on the fact that it _did_ work? He let it go, knowing he had no choice; clearly he’d gotten more cooperation out of her for one night than he should have expected.

“The Dark Lord will not take kindly to your addressing him directly. If he allows you into his ranks, it will be a long time before you will be considered a person by him. Until that happens, you must not speak to him, or touch him, or even look directly into his eyes. All those things would be considered disrespectful, and he’ll be looking for you to breach these unspoken rules. It would be an excuse to punish you.

“His punishments vary with the crime and the fool who breaks the rule. As you are a witch, it must be assumed that any punishment he throws your way will involve something that will entertain everyone else there. Something sexual, perverse, and definitely humiliating and painful for you.”

“How long, on the average,” she asked, “does it take for someone to rise above that lowly position where even eye contact is to be avoided?”

“It depends on Lord Voldemort,” he said, struggling to remember the treatment of the newest recruits. It had been more than a year ago that anyone new had entered the ranks. That was Mullins, and the wizard was still persona non grata with the Dark Lord. But he was a wizard. Would the Dark Lord be more open and susceptible to an attractive witch such as Miss Carus?

“Can you tell me anything about the others?”

“We all pretend not to know who the others are,” he said. “But of course, we all do. Never acknowledge any of these people in public. Unless you have reason to have met them, either socially or professionally, they’ll only get nervous and upset if you make your acquaintance with them known.”

“Understandable.”

“You’ll meet Lucius Malfoy, for one. He’s high up in the Dark Lord’s favor. Don’t turn your back on him; don’t turn your back on any of them. Trust no one.”

“Even you?”

“Even me. If I would ever have to make a choice between acting to save my own life or helping you, I will save myself every time. I expect you to do the same. My first priority in this situation with the Dark Lord is to do anything to prevent his finding out where my loyalties truly lie. If I have to put someone else in jeopardy to accomplish that, I will.”

“And, as you’ve already implied, you expect me to do the same.”

“Yes.”

“Who else is in the inner circle, so to speak?”

“I really don’t want to keep throwing names at you; it’s probably best if you meet them as you would if you were actually going to be recruited. I only warned you about Lucius Malfoy because he’s a charming bastard that will probably try to sweep you off your feet. Once he believes he has you dazzled, he’ll be devious, trying to test your loyalties over and over again. He feels no one is as they appear to be. He trusts no one until they prove they can be trusted. And such a thing is almost impossible. He’s even more suspicious of everyone than I.”

“Is there a ritual, some sort of ceremony, if I’m allowed in?”

“Yes, there will be a very formal ceremony. It is at that ceremony that a brand will be burned into your skin that you will carry with you for the rest of your life. It cannot be removed; many wizards have found out the hard way that even St. Mungo’s mediwizards cannot remove it without releasing a curse that might prove to be worse than the brand itself.

“It’s that brand that will be your contact with the Dark Lord. When it begins to burn agonizingly, your only option is to activate it. It acts as a Portkey, and upon touching it in just the right way, you will be Apparated to wherever he wants all of us to meet.”

“How often does he burn it?”

“We have been meeting about three times a year, for the last two or three years. There are exceptions, of course. If you’re allowed in, that means an extra ceremony. I’ll have to arrange to meet him to ask him to consider your joining him. That would be another meeting, but not one you’d have to worry about.”

“What else happens at the branding ceremony?”

“You take the vows. Magical contracts cannot be broken; not without serious and usually painful consequences, anyway. You must enter into a contract, professing your loyalty to the Dark Lord and your willingness to die before revealing any information about anything you learn while in his service.”

“I presume you’ve had your own ceremony?”

“Years ago, yes.”

“Yet you reveal secrets to Albus and the rest of the Order all the time? How is it you’ve escaped the consequences of violating a magical contract?”

“What makes you think I’ve escaped?”

“What happened?”

It was his turn to be silent and refuse to be forthcoming with information. He suffered every time he reported to Dumbledore or the Order what he’d learned in his duties. But why should he reveal such things to this witch, who was still a stranger to him? It was very personal, this suffering. It would be easier to use a razor to slice his skin from his body to let her see the tissue and organs underneath than it would be to reveal the pain of his duplicity to her.

She didn’t press him; for that, he was glad. He suddenly felt that his resolve to keep certain things buried deeply inside of himself wasn’t as strong as it might have been. Did some part of him actually want her to know what he went through? Why? To convince her to back out while she still could? To let her know that underneath the icy demeanor of a wizard that would trample over her to save himself, there was a man? With actual feelings?

“Miss Carus,” he started tentatively. “You could walk away from all this right now, and no one would blame you. Not any of us.” He stared into those green eyes, willing her to make the right choice.

“I can’t just walk away, Severus,” she answered. “It’s already too late for that.”

“Why?”

She sat quietly long enough for Snape to assume he’d get no answer, but then she spoke. “I have nowhere else to be. Nothing else to do. I might as well have a reason to get out of bed in the mornings.”

“What happened in America?” he asked. “What or who are you escaping from?”

“It’s getting late, Severus,” she said, and he didn’t mind that she insisted on using his first name. “Can we call it a night?”

“Certainly, Miss Carus.” He wished he had the nerve to call her Lisa. “Please reconsider getting involved to this degree. I’m sure there are so many ways your skills could be put to use in the Order. It doesn’t have to be what Albus is considering.”

She said nothing as she stood, or tried to stand. She stumbled back against the chair, almost falling back into it. Severus grabbed for her, helping her to her feet. She mumbled an apology, but didn’t push him away.

He held her around her waist until she had her feet under her. As she stood more solidly, he circled to stand in front of her, both his hands now on her, feeling her ribs under her clothing. She gasped as he moved. He looked more closely at her, noting the white face and her closed eyes.

“Where are you in pain, Miss Carus?” His stern tone demanded an honest answer.

“My ribs are broken,” she replied. “My left side.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine once I begin moving. I was just sitting in one position for too long, I guess.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital wing. Poppy Pomfrey can put those ribs right in an instant.”

“I can find my own way there, thanks.”

She pushed away from him before he could say anything more, and he decided not to follow her. He wasn’t sure if it was her pride that made it difficult to admit she was injured, or if it was because her injury was his fault. He wondered if she was the sort who would exact revenge for this. He almost welcomed the thought, because with her skills, he knew her punishment would be better than anything he could come up with himself. And he knew he would punish himself in some obscure way; he never really let himself get away with anything. It had been pride that had caused him to push her so hard. Stupid male pride and a fragile ego.

He watched her leave his office and classroom, wishing she’d never come to Hogwarts. Better for her, better for him.


	3. Dabbling or Just Interested?

Chapter Three  
Dabbling or Just Interested?

Snape was relieved to see Miss Carus the next morning in the Great Hall, picking at her breakfast. She was apparently no worse off for their lessons of the previous evening, and she met his eyes briefly as he sat at his usual spot at the Head Table. He couldn’t tell by her quick glance if she was still upset with him. He knew he was still upset with himself.

Albus sat himself next to Snape and a plate full of French toast appeared before him. As the headmaster dusted them with powdered sugar, he asked Snape how the meeting with his new charge had gone.

“There are pros and cons to any situation, Headmaster,” he said evasively.

“I’m sure you can be more specific than that, Severus. I know you’re reluctant to proceed with this, but it must be done. You can see that, can’t you?”

“I am still unconvinced it’s necessary, Albus. The risks for her are much greater than they would be for someone else.”

“How do you arrive at that?”

Snape looked at Dumbledore, wondering if he really needed to spell it out for him. He decided he did. _The wizard must really be getting old._ “She’s a young and relatively innocent witch,” he said. “She would appeal to the Dark Lord, not to mention all the other depraved and amorous souls lurking about. Her abilities are great, but she has vulnerabilities that wizards and old hags like Bellatrix Lestrange just don’t have to worry about.”

“You don’t think you can keep Voldemort or the others from using her in such a way?”

“I don’t see how I can. Not only would I be prevented from protecting her, but I’d be expected to participate! I’m not sure she fully understands what she’s getting into.”

“Why didn’t you explain it to her last night?”

“And how does one approach such subjects? It was all I could do to test her skills.”

“And what do you think of her skills?”

Snape organized his thoughts before answering. “She is, like you claimed, very skilled in Occlumency. She’s a good candidate for Legilimency training as well; she showed a slight skill in that yesterday. She has good reflexes as far as defending herself goes. And she shows an amazingly high threshold for pain, by the way. She sat for at least ten minutes in conversation with me before I became aware that her ribs were broken.”

Albus stopped his fork on its journey to his mouth. Looking incredulously at Snape, he asked, “And just how did her ribs get broken?”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault, Headmaster,” he answered contritely. “We were working with Occlumency and Legilimency when I used too much energy to counteract her attack. I sent her flying back into some furniture with quite a bit of force.”

“And she’s healed?”

“She said she’d go to the hospital wing,” Snape replied defensively. “I had no reason to doubt her.”

“Why did you not escort her there?” It was a perfectly legitimate question. After all, he was acting as her teacher in this; he should have made sure she was properly seen to.

“That would have been rather a problem, Albus,” he said. “She was understandably upset with me, and I thought it more prudent to allow her to escape my presence than to burden her with it further while she was already in pain. You don’t think she went to Poppy?”

“Since Poppy didn’t mention it to me, I have to assume not. At least, until I hear differently. I think I’d better have a word with our hospital-shy patient before she sneaks away to her morning class.” With that, Albus left Snape’s side and ventured casually over to the other end of the table, where Miss Carus had been preparing to leave. Snape watched as she blew out an impatient breath and sat down again.

Having forgotten about his breakfast, he sipped his coffee and wished he could read lips. After a few minutes, Miss Carus rose again to leave, and Albus walked back to where Snape still sat.

“She refuses to see the need to bother Poppy about her ribs,” he said. “She claims to have healed herself. However, she’s reluctant to discuss what that involved. Have you supplied Miss Carus with any potions?”

“No, Headmaster. I would have considered that an unusual request, and would have investigated her need for them. Perhaps there are methods taught in America that would preclude the need for medi-potions? Or, is it possible that her ribs are as they were yesterday? Did she seem like she was still in pain?”

“She was moving rather freely, I thought,” Albus said. “I’ve no doubt that her ribs have been healed. But I suppose we should just add this mystery to the list of things we don’t understand about Miss Carus. When one day we find out how she managed to mend herself, we may find that it really isn’t all that important.”

“You seem to accept a lot about her on just faith, Albus.”

“I see no reason not to, Severus. Is there something about her you don’t trust?” The old wizard laughed at his own words. “Look who I’m asking. I suppose I should reword that to ask if there is anything about her you _do_ trust?”

Acknowledging the truth in Albus’ words with a half-smile, Severus stood to take his leave. As he passed by the headmaster, he stopped at Albus’ hand on his arm. He leaned down to hear the old wizard’s words, and was taken by surprise.

“Look after her, Severus. I’m worried about her.” Snape looked at Albus, waiting for him to add to his cryptic statement, but Albus simply went back to his breakfast.

Remembering that they hadn’t set an appointment for her next lesson, Snape used that as an excuse to enter the History classroom as the first years filed out. Miss Carus was up at the front of the room, waving her hand at the slate to erase it. He looked around, but didn’t see her wand anywhere. Apparently, she only used it when she absolutely had to.

He had entered silently, and now he quietly watched her as she stacked a few books on the shelf. She seemed to be moving easily enough, so he had to assume she really did know how to mend broken ribs. As she turned back to her desk, she caught sight of him; only her raised eyebrows showing her surprise at his being there.

“Good morning, Severus,” she said cheekily. “Something I can do for you?”

“I only wanted to know if you’ve reconsidered. Can we forget the whole thing, or will you be wanting more tutoring in the field of lying, treachery, and self-defense?”

She smiled sadly. “I want more tutoring, of course.”

He frowned. It was obvious to him that she didn’t want anything to do with Dark Wizards; why then did she persist?

“Have you any plans for tonight, then?”

“None. You?”

“None. Shall we say, seven again?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Actually,” he said, “I think we should use a different room. It might be more comfortable to use the Room of Requirement.”

“What is the Room of Requirement?”

He smiled. “It’s whatever you need it to be. Come to my office tonight at seven, and I’ll take you there. It’s easier than explaining exactly how to find it. It’s necessary to employ a foolish ritual in order to open the room.”

She nodded thoughtfully, and he swirled around to leave her classroom. Pausing to look back as he headed out the door, he was a bit unsettled to know she’d been watching him as he left. She didn’t seem to mind that he saw her scrutiny, and he left before those eyes coerced him to say something he’d regret.

He entered the staffroom, where Minerva flagged him down, gesturing for him to join her on the other side of the room, away from non-Order-member ears. “There’s been an emergency meeting called for tonight, six o’clock, in Dumbledore’s office. It seems that Nott is up to something, and Albus wants to warn us before anything happens.”

“What do you know of it?” he asked her. “Has Albus said anything at all?”

“Only that the ignoramus is up to his usual tricks,” she replied. “Which can mean anything, you know that.”

“All right.”

“I still have to let Hagrid know about it. Have you seen Lisa? She doesn’t know about it, yet.”

“I just spoke with her. I’ll go back and see if she’s still in her classroom.”

“Thank you. I’m heading out to find Hagrid now.”

They both left the staffroom, Minerva heading out to the Entrance Hall and Snape heading back to the History classroom. He arrived to find it empty, and tried to remember what he knew her schedule to be. Since lunch would be served within the hour, it stood to reason that she’d have nothing going on until after the meal. She hadn’t been in the staffroom, so she must have gone to her rooms.

Climbing up another flight of steps, he followed the corridor to the portrait of Lady Withers. She was a prissy old thing who thought death had only improved her. Not true. Snape figured she must have been a veritable beast in life, and in death, she wasn’t all that much fun around the castle. She asked for the password before he’d even gotten near enough to knock.

“I don’t have the password, of course. Please tell Miss Carus I’m here and would like to speak to her.”

“I don’t deliver messages, young man! And the joke’s on you; there is no password. You simply have to knock. It’s wards that protect this door, not passwords!”

No kidding. He drew out his wand, simply to vent his frustration at having to deal with a disrespectful portrait, and was gratified to see the fear in the old lady’s eyes. Without another word, the door opened to admit him. He entered, deciding that Lady Withers would have to be replaced immediately. It would not do to have such an unreliable protector guarding the door of a future Death Eater/spy.

He entered an empty sitting room, and looking off to the right, he caught sight of Miss Carus in her bedroom. She was half-leaning over her dresser, and he entered the room. “Miss Carus? A word, please?”

He’d startled her, and she whipped around, the object she held in her hand now hidden behind her back. “What is it?”

He was curious about what she was hiding, but didn’t want her to know he’d noticed anything amiss. “We’ll have to postpone our lesson tonight,” he said. “There’s a meeting of the Order in the headmaster’s office at six. It seems a Death Eater known as Nott is causing trouble again.”

“He makes a habit of it, does he?”

“Well, he has managed to escape detection by the Aurors for quite a while now. He will continue to do so, until such time as we get some Aurors employed that can actually detect these wizards.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

“And Miss Carus,” he added. “You need better protection at your door.”

“So it would seem.”

He’d been nearing her all the while he spoke, looking into the mirror over the dresser. He could see what she was hiding, but didn’t recognize what it might be. He continued over, no longer trying to be stealthy. “What is that?” he asked, daring her not to answer.

She blew out her breath. “You’ve never seen one before?” she asked. “It’s an effigy.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, not quite believing what his senses were telling him. “It looks very near to what’s put a lot of wizards in Azkaban. Where did you get it?”

“Knockturn Alley.”

“And what possessed you to go traipsing around that neighborhood? Nothing you can find there could do you any good.”

“What are you talking about? Some of my best purchases have been from Knockturn Alley.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There were wizards and witches in England and Scotland that would sooner throw rocks at the Wizengamot Panel than to enter the Alley, knowing that mere association might be enough to ruin their reputations.

“Just what have you purchased from there?”

She motioned with her head to the bookcase against the opposite wall. He moved closer to read the titles. The top two shelves were filled with classical literature, both Muggle and Magic. He was pleased to see the well-worn books were of the same authors, and in most cases, the same titles he’d enjoyed reading. But the third row was half-filled with books she should not read, much less own. These books would ensure that she would be closely watched, with the expectation that one didn’t read these particular books without practicing the magic within the pages.

He turned back to her, wondering why she’d made no attempt to hide these books. “Aren’t you aware of how people feel about these books? What they’re for?”

“I read them, Severus. I don’t practice the Dark Arts. It isn’t illegal to simply own the books.”

“But you have an effigy in your possession! That falls under the category of Dark Arts Artifacts, and possession of such a thing could land you in a cell in Azkaban. Weren’t you aware of that? And, even were I to understand the need to read about the Dark Arts, what explanation could you possibly come up with to convince me that your interest is purely academic? I’ve seen the effigy! Why would you have one, if not to practice what these books are all about?”

“Severus,” she said softly. “Have you never read books like these? You seem to know what’s in them.”

“I’ve read them. I’ve practiced them. I grew up practicing the Dark Arts. I cut my teeth playing with effigies instead of the usual toys other wizards’ children had. Yes, I know of these things. And I know where they will lead you. Can’t you learn from others’ mistakes? You have to make your own?”

“Again, Severus, I do not practice the Dark Arts. And I’m not trying to convince you of anything. It’s of little consequence to me what you believe. I was simply answering your questions. I would hate to think that you believe I feel the need to defend my actions.”

He walked toward her, grabbing the effigy from her hands. “I will confiscate this effigy,” he said. “Since the books aren’t exactly illegal, I can do nothing about your having them, except to once again beg you to take warning by me and what I’ve experienced.

“If you succeed in infiltrating Lord Voldemort’s ranks, you’ll be seeing and hearing things which will tempt you to look more thoroughly into the Dark Arts. The attraction for what he promises will be strong. I don’t know what has happened to you to make you leave your home and seek something else here; I don’t know what penance you feel you must pay or what crimes you’ve committed for which you feel the need to atone.

“But I do know that the more secrets you keep within yourself, the more vulnerable you are to the seduction of the Dark Arts and all they seem to promise. If you must go along with this ridiculous idea, if you must enter into that Dark wizard’s realm, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. But if you keep hiding things from me, I won’t know how to protect you.”

She inched closer to him, taking the single step that brought her body into light contact with his. She leaned over until he felt his breath quicken; he felt her warm breath fan his face as she whispered into his ear. “That’s not the attitude you had last night, Severus. What happened to change your mind? What happened that makes you want to look out for me?”

Without waiting for an answer, she brushed by him on her way out the door. Leaving him behind in her bedroom, she left the rooms. He heard the outer door close behind her.

He stood still, waiting for his pulse to slow down again. He cursed his body’s physical reaction to her, mocking himself for actually having believed that he could repress the feelings he’d thought he could. One surprising move on her part, and he was behaving like a schoolboy.

After a few minutes, he followed her path out the door, reminding himself to speak to Dumbledore about replacing the portrait of Lady Withers with one that would better protect her. Heading for the dungeons, he decided he’d skip lunch, and he entered his rooms, striving to get forget how her whisper felt in his ear, how his body felt at the light contact with hers.

And he’d have to decide whether or not to report to Albus what he’d found in her room. It may be a strong enough reason for the headmaster to change his mind about sending Miss Carus to Voldemort.


	4. So That's the Famous Malfoy, Eh?

Chapter Four  
So, That’s the Famous Malfoy, Eh?

Snape followed Miss Carus at a distance as she walked down the steps leading to Knockturn Alley. She was walking as though she had a specific destination in mind, and he had a guess as to where that might be. He had taken her effigy away from her, burying it in his own hidden library at Hogwarts, but he hadn’t done anything about her books. He now wondered what other Dark artifacts she might possess, and hoped she wasn’t about to purchase any more.

He still wasn’t sure what to do about her preoccupation with the Dark Arts. One could only warn another so often before the words would fall on deaf ears. Clearly, Miss Carus was an example of a fool who must make her own mistakes. The difficulty in allowing her to do just that was in his realization that some mistakes had no salvation. He didn’t want to see her follow in his footsteps; not when he was in any position to protect her from herself.

His heart sank as his eyes followed her into the bookstore just opposite. Just as he’d expected. Still, it could be worse. This bookseller had never been known to sell anything but books. She hadn’t looked over her shoulder; if she had, she might have hesitated to enter the shop with Snape watching her. Most of the witches and wizards who patronized these disreputable merchants went to great lengths to avoid making their interests public. Miss Carus, on the other hand, went about her way among these characters with the arrogance that usually came with the certainty that nothing illicit was afoot.

He was guilty of that same arrogance. However, his was contrived, a persona he wore like a mask, hiding his true self deep within. He wondered now if that’s what she was doing, or if she really didn’t see anything wrong in being here. He just didn’t know her well enough to be sure. Three weeks of intensive tutoring, and he still didn’t know her well. Some Legilimens he turned out to be.

Donning the mental cloak of I-have-every-right-to-be-here-and-how-dare-you-question-me, he continued down the alley steps to get a closer look into the bookstore. Stopping halfway across the road, he was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy’s platinum head enter the bookstore just ahead. _Malfoy is getting careless._ With all the trouble he’d been in with the Ministry in the past, he normally took pains to avoid being spotted in locations where he probably shouldn’t be.

Foregoing all pretense now, Snape entered the bookstore, preventing the door from completely closing behind Lucius. It caused Lucius to turn around quickly; most Death Eaters were in the habit of watching their backs. He smiled at seeing Snape, but Snape knew well that the smile was habit, not feeling.

“Severus,” he said happily, “it’s been a long time.”

“Lucius. A bit surprising to see you here.”

“And you as well. Browsing?”

“I saw someone I know enter; I merely came to see that she wasn’t getting herself into trouble. She’s not always careful.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows. “She? I wouldn’t be intruding if I hoped for an introduction, would I?”

Snape allowed a small smile to grace his lips as he searched the interior of the shop for Miss Carus. In the far corner, he spotted her in conversation with the proprietor, and he wondered what was being discussed. Without another word to Malfoy, he sauntered over, knowing he couldn’t admonish her for her interests while Malfoy was near.

She looked up at Snape as he approached, a frown marring her features. He frowned back, glancing quickly to his left, where Lucius was following. She seemed to understand, and he took some pride in how she quickly arranged her features to show nothing. All those hours of lessons were paying off, he noted. They could sometimes communicate without words or overt gestures.

“Miss Carus, I thought I saw you come in here,” he said to her. “May I escort you back to Hogwarts when you’re through?”

“Thank you, Severus. I’d like that.” She looked at Malfoy, and glanced back at Snape, clearly waiting for him to make the introductions.

“Miss Carus, I don’t believe you’ve met Lucius Malfoy. He’s one of our governors, and a personal friend of mine. Lucius, this is Miss Carus. She’s come to Hogwarts from America to teach History of Magic.”

She smiled at Malfoy, offering her hand. Malfoy took it, raising it slowly to his lips, his eyes on hers. She held his gaze steadily, and Snape mentally added several points in her favor simply because she didn’t giggle or blush, the way most witches did when subjected to the Malfoy charm.

“It is indeed a pleasure, Miss Carus.”

“Likewise, Mr. Malfoy. Or should I call you Governor?”

“Please call me Lucius. I only insist on formality with those I don’t wish to know better.”

“And my name is Lisa.”

Malfoy smiled, and Snape was disconcerted to see the smile reflected in the ice-blue eyes. It could very well be a first, at least so far as Snape had ever paid attention. And since the eyes are the gateway to the soul, he had indeed kept himself aware of Malfoy’s eyes.

Malfoy finally released Miss Carus’ hand, and she let it settle to her side. She kept eye contact with Malfoy, who waved his hand around the shop. “I do hope we’re not keeping you from business,” he said.

“My business here is done,” she answered. For once, Snape was relieved that she wasn’t in the habit of explaining that which had not been directly addressed.

Malfoy turned back to Snape. “It’s been a long time since you’ve graced my household with your presence, Severus. Might I tell Narcissa that you’ve agreed to come by for dinner? Friday evening? And please bring the lovely Lisa Carus with you,” he added, nodding to her.

She said nothing, but glanced at Snape. He took that to mean she was going to leave it entirely up to him. Dare he allow Malfoy to believe he and Miss Carus were dating? Would that mean more danger for her, or less? With Malfoy, one could never tell.

“I’m not entirely sure I can get away,” he said, stalling for time. He really should speak to Miss Carus alone before committing her to an evening at the Malfoys’.

“Oh, do try, Severus,” Malfoy insisted. “We’re having some of Narcissa’s old school friends in, as well as the usual politicians I’m forced to play host to on occasion. It would be dreadfully dull if I can’t get someone over there who is actually capable of intelligent conversation. I would consider it a debt that I will repay some day.”

He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, trying to determine how much sincerity was in the wily wizard’s eyes. He really did sound on the level. “All right, I’ll plan on it, if Miss Carus will agree to accompany me.” He turned to her, awaiting her answer.

She considered him carefully, trying, no doubt, to see if there was a hidden message there for her to pick up on. “It sounds like something I’d enjoy,” she said, “as long as I don’t get cloistered away in the kitchen talking about kids and men while all the men stay in the study discussing more interesting things.”

Malfoy laughed, agreeing to her terms. “It doesn’t always end up that way,” he assured her. “Not if we push them to dance, anyway. Narcissa insisted on making this a big deal, on the grounds that she never sees her school friends anymore, and I’ve actually had to engage a small combo to entertain us. Perhaps, Miss Carus...Lisa...you’ll save a dance for me.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Lucius.”

He smiled at her, bowing at the waist. Nodding once more at Snape, he left the shop. Lisa stared after him, waiting until the door closed behind him before turning back to Snape. “So that’s him, huh? I expected something else.”

“What did you expect?”

“I think I expected him to look horrible, with teeth he never cleaned, hair he never combed, and a sinister smile. He has none of that. Is my imagination so terrible, or did you purposely mislead me?”

He protested vehemently. “I never even mentioned how he looks,” he snapped.

She smiled at his indignation. Looking around her once more, she tilted her head. “Did you come in here to transact some business, or were you just spying on me?”

“I was spying on you, of course. You have no business being in Knockturn Alley, let alone in this bookstore. Please tell me you’ve not ordered anything that will make me nervous.”

“Lighten up, Severus,” she said, smiling. “Right now I could order something by Milton and you’d get nervous. You’ve talked yourself into it.”

He tossed his hands in the air, exasperated. _She will never take this seriously,_ he thought. _I should save my breath._

He walked out of the shop, and she followed. Side by side, they started up the steps that would take them back into Diagon Alley. As they headed down the road that led to The Leaky Cauldron, she peppered him with questions about his association with the Malfoys. He answered willingly enough; the more she knew about Malfoy, the better she’d be able to handle anything he threw her way Friday.

They left the Alley, heading into the dim interior of The Leaky Cauldron. Instead of following Snape to the fireplace, where they could Floo back to the castle, she gestured to a table, asking Snape if he would care to have a drink or two.

“As you wish, Miss Carus.”

Tom brought their ordered drinks to them, and she toyed with hers, scooping out the ice cubes and unobtrusively putting them in a glass she’d taken from the empty table to her right. At Snape’s unasked question, she shrugged. “He must have heard the American accent,” she explained unhelpfully.

“I don’t follow,” he said.

“Most bartenders automatically add ice to a drink when it’s an American ordering it,” she replied. “I keep forgetting to order my drinks neat.”

“Oh, yes,” he smiled. “That dreadful American habit of ruining perfectly good liquor by freezing it.”

She smiled, acknowledging his teasing words. “So, Severus,” she started, looking up at him, her eyes bright. He prepared himself, sure she was about to throw something challenging his way. She seemed to take a lot of pleasure in baiting him lately.

“Yes?” he drawled, silently daring her to give it her best shot.

“I’ve been doing a lot of reading, lately.”

“Have you?” He narrowed his eyes and smirked, letting her know that he was aware of the sort of reading she meant. “And what, pray tell, induces you to mention that to me? To the one person who’s been trying in vain to stop you from doing just that?”

“Because of what you’ve been teaching me about...everything. From what I’ve read, I’m guessing that you’ve read the very books I’ve been poring over. The things you’ve been telling me are in those books, almost verbatim.”

“You know the circumstances of my knowledge of those particular studies.”

“I have questions those books refuse to answer, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“You don’t believe, even for an instant, that I would help your education in these matters?”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to learn the answers the hard way.” She looked directly at him, and he was dismayed to find the teasing humor gone from her eyes. This wasn’t where he would plan a serious conversation about the Dark Arts. But she could be so elusive at times; he’d better discuss this now, while he had her attention and willingness to talk about it.

“I cannot emphasize enough the dangers waiting for you in those books, Miss Carus. But since all my efforts to stop you from studying them have been to no avail, I suppose I should answer what questions I can. But not here. There are too many ears, and although I don’t worry about the wrong people eavesdropping, it’s still too hot a topic.”

He stood, waiting for her to precede him to the fireplace. They Floo’d back to Hogwarts, directly to his rooms in the dungeon. She tossed her cloak aside, already at home here; most of their lessons had taken place here in his sitting room.

Without asking, he handed her a glass of the gin she’d been drinking at the pub, and sat next to her, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He studied her a moment. She was frowning, clearly trying to put into words her first question. He silently waited.

“Do all Death Eaters practice the Dark Arts?”

“No. Absolutely not. As a matter of fact, Lord Voldemort...frowns on any interest one might show toward the subject. He practices the Dark Arts; he’s very accomplished. But he discourages anyone else’s interest in it.”

“He’s afraid someone will learn what he’s already learned?”

“Exactly.”

“Does he know you used to practice?”

“Yes. Back in those days, he had considered it advantageous for his followers to be adept in the field.”

“But something happened to change his mind?”

He looked at her, wondering how much she knew from her expertise in history, and how much might have been in those books she was reading. “One of my fellow Death Eaters had tried to overthrow the Dark Lord, using knowledge he’d gathered from his dabbling in the Dark Arts. It was only by my interference that the attempt failed.”

He leaned forward to put his glass on the low table in front of the couch, then rested his arms on his legs, looking at the floor. He had saved Lord Voldemort’s life, and he had soon come to regret it. It hadn’t been long after that incident that he’d sought out Dumbledore, searching for redemption and a reason to live.

“Voldemort was aware of it? Did he know that it was you who stopped it?”

“Yes, he knew. He also knew, thanks to me, who it was who had been plotting against him. It had been a horrifying execution, even compared to the usual. I hated myself for the role I played in it, and each day the hate intensified. And when it became apparent that the Dark Lord favored me above all the others, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Is that when you and Lucius had a parting of the ways?”

He looked at her, wondering if he’d been revealing more of himself than he was in the habit of doing. “How do you come to that?”

“I thought I felt some tension in the air between the two of you at the bookstore. Am I wrong?”

“Actually, no. Even when we were young, we’d never fully trusted each other. We are friends,” he added. “But not as close as Lucius would imply. It is merely politic that we maintain our social ties, simply because of the things we’re both involved with.”

“Is Lucius aware that you’re a member of the Order? Or that the Order even exists?”

“He knows about the Order, but can’t penetrate our defenses. He doesn’t know, although he strongly suspects, where my loyalties truly lie. It’s one of the reasons I guard myself against him.”

“And if he ever found any evidence that you were spying on Voldemort for the Order’s sake, will  
he reveal that information to Voldemort?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“So, he’s trying to win Voldemort’s favor?”

“Yes. Everyone does. It’s so much better than being a victim of his wrath. Miss Carus, are you still serious about joining the Dark Lord’s ranks?”

She sighed, her eyes drifting away from his. “Yes, I am. I suppose Lucius’ Friday dinner party would be a good time to test the waters.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Lucius can be influenced to believe that I’m more than interested in Lord Voldemort and what he’s trying to do, won’t it make things easier for me to become a Death Eater?”

“Yes, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But I would caution you against allowing Malfoy to present you to the Dark Lord. He may not have your best interests at heart.”

“You’ve already told me not to trust you, Severus. Yet, here I am, waiting for you to clear the path for me. Should I be waiting for you to trap me somehow? To set me up beyond what anyone could do to help me?”

“I take it back,” he said. “You should trust me. I may be the only one you _can_ trust.”

“Do you include Dumbledore as someone I should be wary of?”

“His heart is in the right place,” Snape told her. “He wouldn’t be so treacherous as to deliver you to your enemies. It’s just that sometimes he forgets how fallible and vulnerable we lower wizards and witches are, compared to the powers he has. And at other times, he’s so protective that he inhibits our own abilities to get anything accomplished.”

She nodded to acknowledge his words, still studying the fireplace. Turning back to him, she smiled; a smile that was tremulous at best. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can expect Friday?”

“I’d rather you tell me why you think you want to travel this particular path? What is it that makes you feel you should damn your soul for eternity? It’s clear that you don’t really believe in the things that Dark Wizard believes. You’re obviously not one of his true followers; so why?”

He couldn’t fathom the look of sadness that she couldn’t hide from him. It hit him with something almost tangible, and he longed to erase it from her features. He only wished he knew how. She smiled sadly, softly, and replied, “What else have I got to do?”

The chasm of despair he’d felt so many times before opened up in his heart, and to avoid jumping into it, he dragged his eyes away from hers.

He began to tell her all he could think of about the Malfoys, and some of the wizards and witches he expected to be there. As he spoke, he remembered her promise of a dance with Malfoy, and he wondered if it was simply that Malfoy charmed every attractive witch he met, or did he have a definite agenda. He began to feel that both Miss Carus and Lucius Malfoy would demand his complete attention on Friday night.


	5. The Die is Cast

Chapter 5  
The Die is Cast

Snape lifted his chin slightly to get a better angle over the heads crowding the room. Lucius had a better turn-out than he had expected, and they were all clearly in the mood for celebration. What they were celebrating remained unclear in Snape’s mind. Perhaps it was because it was the Malfoy Manor, after all, and their host had been particularly gracious this evening.

He wondered if Miss Carus had much to do with Lucius’ present mood. The two had been dancing on and off all evening since dinner, and it was beginning to worry him. Thankfully, the current song was ending. He hoped it meant Miss Carus would return to her seat so Snape could ask her what the Great Malfoy had found to talk about with her.

As Lucius led Miss Carus back to her place next to Snape, he thought he detected a lingering glance between the two. Surely, he was mistaken. Miss Carus didn’t seem the type to be swayed by the suave urbanity of her host. But then, why was Narcissa glaring daggers?

Realizing he had a potential problem on his hands, he asked her if she would step out to the gardens for some fresh air. Smiling in agreement, she stood, and he followed her out the door, taking in the rear view. It wasn’t often he saw her without her robes, and the dress she’d chosen for tonight’s dinner showed her slim body off very nicely. A simple black, halter-style dress, it hugged her waistline and hips, falling more loosely to just below her knees. When he realized that she’d not be able to wear a bra with this sort of gown, he forced his mind elsewhere.

As she took in a deep breath of the clear evening air, he leaned back against the garden wall so he could face her. Crossing one ankle over the other, he crossed his arms at his chest and waited until he had her full attention. She smiled at him, coming to lean on the wall next to him, looking out into the garden. “So, Severus, are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, Miss Carus, I live for these get-togethers.”

She laughed out loud at his tone. “Well, you seem to be the only one unhappy to be here. Everyone else seems like they really needed to get out and kick up their heels a little. But I sense there’s more going on at this dinner than is apparent to the untrained eye.”

“And you’d be right. If you’d pay closer attention, you’d see that some of the guests sneak off in pairs to unoccupied rooms on the second floor. I wonder that Lucius hasn’t already invited you up there.”

“What makes you think he hasn’t?” She tossed a brazen smile his way.

“I would advise you not to play any feminine games with Malfoy,” he growled. “You don’t know his rules yet.”

“But as you’ve been ignoring me all evening, he has no reason to believe he shouldn’t make any moves. Why haven’t you asked me to dance?”

“I despise dancing, Miss Carus. And he is a married man. If you’re not worried about him, you should at least watch your back around Narcissa.”

“I do. Even if Lucius totally ignored me, I would be careful around her. She’s not exactly friendly.”

“What do you expect? She has to watch her husband whirl a lovely young witch around her home; her husband who has not once danced with her.”

She moved closer to him, her leg brushing his. “Do you really think I’m a lovely young witch?”

“Miss Carus, I should warn you not to play any games with me, either.”

“In this social setting, you still can’t bring yourself to call me by my first name? Do you even know what my name is?”

She had leaned into him while saying this, and he felt the sweetness of her breath near his ear. Forcing his breathing to remain even, he reached up and took her necklace in his fingers. It was a simple gold chain, with a pendant made from agate. Keeping his eyes on the pendant, he lowered his voice, answering, “Lisa.”

There was something so personal in this; he’d never allowed himself to think of her as ‘Lisa,’ even in his mind. And she was standing so close; he could smell her perfume, the slight trace of her shampoo; he could feel her heat. The pulse in his neck began to beat faster; the rhythm was echoed in his chest.

He closed his eyes when he felt her lips on the sensitive spot just below his ear. “Severus.” His name, simply spoken directly into his ear, her kiss on that skin which was rarely ever touched by lips; he sighed, then abruptly moved his arms to the wall behind him, leaning back on them to remove himself from her charms.

“It’s rather interesting, the lengths you’ll go to in avoiding what you know I brought you out here for,” he said, willing his voice not to betray what she’d made him feel. “Have you been grilling our host for information about the Dark Arts?”

“Sure, here and there,” she admitted. “He’s offered to show me his collection of rare tomes and other writings.”

“That’s tantamount to an invitation upstairs, Miss Carus. What did you answer?”

“I told him I was interested. What else could I say? You know, we never prepared for what I should do or say while I was here. Not really. I was just playing it by ear.”

“I think it’s time we decided what our next move is. Would you like my advice?”

“Yes, Severus. I would.”

He looked at her carefully. She was sincere; he knew she would listen, but would she actually take that advice? “I advise you not to push this any further. Do not join our ranks, and do not approach Lucius again.”

She looked sadly up at him, and, on impulse, he probed into her mind. She narrowed her eyes and he felt a painful force hurled back at him. It knocked him off the wall, and he grabbed the ledge to keep from falling to his knees. Standing upright once more, he shot her a look.

“I keep forgetting how formidable your powers can be when it involves your privacy,” he said. “Does this mean you intend to go through with it?”

“Yes. I...” Her words trailed off, and he stopped her from turning away from him by placing his hand on her arm. Taking a deep breath, she looked up to meet his eyes.

“You what?” he asked.

“I have no choice in the matter.”

“You _do_ have a choice. This may be the last time you have a choice. Make it the right one!”

She backed up until she hit the wall. Standing silently, watching him, she crossed her arms at her waist, pulling his attention away from her eyes to her breasts. He wondered if she’d done it intentionally. “I feel as if I’ve been assigned to protect you, but I don’t know what I’m protecting you from,” he told her. “I’m beginning to wonder if the Dark Lord might be the least of your worries.”

She slowly straightened, and walked toward him. When she was immediately before him, she lifted her hand to his face, her warmth penetrating, her fingers tracing the outline of his cheekbone. She was waiting. Almost as if she expected him to move away. He wanted to; he hated feeling as if his heart and body wanted to take the reason from his brain. But he forced himself to keep still, waiting for her next move.

“Severus,” she whispered, “I fully intend to join those Death Eaters. I realize that once I do, there’s nothing you can do to protect me. I only hope you realize it as well; I would hate to think you’d put yourself in any danger because of me. And stop prying into my past; you know far too much already. You really don’t need to know my motives. Now, would you please take me home? I think I’ve had enough of this upper-crust reveling for one night.”

She turned and headed to the door. “Lisa!” he called out. She turned, eyebrows raised at hearing her name coming from him. That’s why he did it, he told himself. To get her attention.

“Just tell me what you’ve ever done in your young life that demands this kind of penance?”

She smiled wryly at him. “Well, I suppose I could tell you...but then...I’d have to kill you.” She exited through the door, and he followed, not entirely sure she was being funny.

He murmured a few goodbyes and well wishes to those of his acquaintance as he prepared to leave with her. Heading to the front salon, where cloaks had been stored, he accepted hers from a house-elf and turned to lay it across her shoulders. As he turned to get his own cloak, Lucius and Narcissa had appeared in the foyer.

“Leaving us so soon?” Lucius asked, the smile still on his face. Narcissa was still glaring at Lisa.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, Lucius, Narcissa. It’s been a real pleasure.” He willed as much sincerity into his voice as he thought possible, even while knowing it wouldn’t fool Malfoy. One had to keep up appearances, after all; it was an unwritten rule.

“I’m glad you could be here, Severus. And, Lisa, it was wonderful to get better acquainted with you; I’m quite looking forward to our next meeting tomorrow.”

Snape looked quickly at Lisa. Next meeting? Lisa was looking at Lucius, smiling. Snape waited impatiently while Lucius pressed his lips to the back of her hand, and noted the possessive hatred on Narcissa’s features. As soon as Lucius released Lisa, Snape put his hands on her shoulders to steer her toward the front parlor, from where they’d return to Hogwarts.

Lucius and Narcissa had followed them into the room, and as they turned, Snape holding a handful of Floo-powder, he watched as Lisa waved. “Until tomorrow,” she said. Just before the bright green flash, Snape had time to see Narcissa say something to Lucius, who forcefully pushed her from the room before him.

They arrived at the fireplace in Lisa’s rooms. Patting the soot from his cloak, watching her do the same, he strove to contain his temper. When she asked if he’d like a nightcap, he nodded, needing more time to calm down before speaking. He spoke the spell that would remove Lisa’s fireplace from the Floo network that included access to it from the Malfoy Manor.

He seated himself on her sofa, rubbing his temples and telling himself that he was not her keeper. But what could she have been thinking of, actually making a date with Lucius Malfoy? And rubbing Narcissa’s nose in it as well?

She returned from the kitchenette, handing him his drink and sitting next to him to sip hers. “So, Severus,” she said. “When do you plan to approach Voldemort about me?”

“I suppose there’s no putting it off any longer,” he said. “No doubt if I don’t do it, you’ll simply get Malfoy to take you to him. As I’m not prepared to watch you jump into the very pits of Hell, where Lucius would surely take you, I’ll let the Dark Lord know I’d like a meeting with him.”

“What makes you think I’d ask Lucius to do it?”

“Why else would you make plans to see him tomorrow?”

“Why, indeed.”

He looked at her, incredulously. “Are you actually planning to have an affair with him? Are you insane?”

“I’m not planning to have an affair with him, Severus. I plan on getting some information from him about the Dark Arts.”

“How can you know whether or not he’s telling you the truth? Or that he even knows the answers to your questions? His very ignorance could be more harmful to you than all those books I wanted to talk you out of.”

She said nothing, sipping her drink and watching him over the rim of her glass. He put down his own glass and moved until he could take her glass from her. Setting it next to his on the table, he took her hands in his, searching for words that would convince her to save herself before it was too late.

“Lisa...I have no doubt that you can handle Lucius. At least for now. He’ll want to take his time, nurturing a relationship with you until he controls your will. But Narcissa can be dangerous when she gets it into her mind to be. And the mortal peril that will be your world while dabbling in the Dark Arts...I can’t even begin to describe it. Right now I wish I could magically bind you somehow, to prevent you from doing this. I wish I could send you back to the States, away from here; away from the Dark Lord, away from Malfoy. Even away from Dumbledore.”

He felt the pressure on his hands as she gripped him, pulling him to her. All his current worries left his mind as her lips rose up to meet his, their softness and her sudden move causing an instant response in him. He lifted his hands to her face, his thumbs tracing the outline of her cheekbones, his fingers moving to her hair, removing the clip and feeling the silky locks tumble over his hands.

He moved his mouth to her neck, seeking the hollows, searching for the pulse so he could feel it quicken under his attentions. Her hands came to his shoulders, and he moved his hands down her arms, loving the silkiness of her skin, the flawless beauty of it.

The flawless beauty of her skin.

He held her still, pushing himself away and looking down at her left arm. He pulled it between them, looking up at her uncomprehending eyes.

“Such beautiful skin, Lisa,” he said. “After your branding, you won’t be able to wear a dress like this one.” He heard the steel in his voice, but it couldn’t be helped. Did she even know what irrevocable felt like?

“It’s the branding of my soul I fear more, Severus. But I made this choice a long time ago. Now it’s time to pay the piper.”

“What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s all in the past. I have to pay my dues, that’s all.”

He stood up, leaving her rooms without another word. Navigating the moving stairways, he headed down to his dungeon rooms, infuriated. Not only was she going to condemn her soul to Hell, she was asking him to be the one to throw her in!

He had half a mind to let Lucius be the one to do it, and damn both of them to Hell!


	6. No Turning Back Now

Chapter Six  
No Turning Back Now

Snape took a deep breath, trying to extinguish the nearly overwhelming nervous trepidation he always felt upon meeting the Dark Lord. It wasn’t so acute when there were numerous Death Eaters summoned; but this would be a one-on-one meeting with him, and he felt like he was marching to his own execution.

The Dark Lord had seemed amiable enough upon Snape’s request for this appointment. That could be a good sign; it wouldn’t be worth his efforts to stage a warm welcome if he hadn’t felt so inclined. On the other hand, if Snape’s worst fears were realized, and the Dark Wizard knew of his subject’s deceit, he’d make Snape curse the day his mother met his father before finally allowing him to die.

He followed Pettigrew into the darkened room, where the Dark Lord sat before a roaring fire. Kneeling to kiss the bottom of the Dark Lord’s robes, he greeted him, his head lowered, waiting for the invitation to look up and speak.

“Severus, sit, drink! Let us toast each other’s good health! You!” he shouted to Pettigrew, who was skulking about, no doubt hoping to hear classified tidbits of information. The oily little wizard jumped three feet upon being addressed so suddenly by Voldemort.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Ogden’s Old, quickly!”

Snape settled back into the armchair at Voldemort’s gesture. Already feeling the probing of Legilimency, he braced his mind against it, as unobtrusively as possible. Keeping his eyes on the Dark Wizard, he patiently waited until Voldemort was satisfied that Severus came here with nothing more on his mind than the reason he’d requested this meeting.

By the time Pettigrew returned with the firewhisky, and was ushered on his way by Voldemort, Snape had managed to visibly relax, although his nerves were still edgy. Accepting the drink that Voldemort poured for him, he lifted his glass in acknowledgment of the toast.

“So, Severus, to what do I owe this pleasure? It isn’t often you seek out my company without a direct communique from me.”

“Forgive me, my Lord, but Dumbledore keeps his eye firmly on my activities. I hesitate to give him any reason to suspect anything I do. And there is always the assumption that you wouldn’t have the time for social pleasantries with someone like myself, anyway.”

The evil wizard smiled at Snape’s obsequious words. Snape took some pride in being able to supply the egotistical fiend with the words he wanted to hear, without the overwhelming fawning most of the Death Eaters used. It only seemed to add to his credibility.

“Nonsense, Severus. I always welcome your company. But I did get the impression that you had something specific in mind when you asked for this audience.”

“Yes, my Lord, I did. I have, not long ago, made the acquaintance of someone new to Hogwarts who has shown great interest in the Dark Arts, and my careful questioning of her convinces me that, although she’s reluctant to admit it, she approves of your intentions to change the structure of the wizarding world. She’s not very forthcoming with her interests, understandably, and tends to shy away from people she doesn’t know well. However, I believe she’s willing to join our ranks, pending your approval.”

“You have found another follower for me? Severus, this is good news, indeed. Tell me more.”

Snape stretched out his legs, showing Voldemort that he was comfortable. It was important to show these subtle signs that would convince the Dark Wizard that there was no subterfuge going on here.

“She’s been engaged as an apprentice to teaching History of Magic. I know Dumbledore keeps admonishing her about her emphasis on Druidism, but she persists. That rebellious attitude is what made me sit up and pay attention. I don’t believe she practices the Dark Arts at all, but she seems to have a healthy respect for them.

“She’s an American witch, so I really can’t tell you what sort of education she has, not being even remotely familiar with the American Magical Curriculum. She’s made the acquaintance of Lucius Malfoy, and they seemed to hit it off fairly well. He’s charmed by her, but I don’t know if the feeling is mutual.”

“Well, you know Lucius,” Voldemort replied. “He’d be charmed by any young witch still breathing. I wonder how it is that Lucius hasn’t brought this witch to my attention...”

Not wanting to hand Malfoy into the coals, he quickly offered an explanation. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that the two only met last Friday evening, my Lord. If Lucius had mentioned her to you after such a brief acquaintance, that’s when I’d worry. I, on the other hand, have known her for several months now, and am quite comfortable with what I’ve come to know.”

“You say Lucius has been charmed by her graces,” Voldemort said. “How do you feel about her?”

It was the question Snape figured might be asked, but not for which he’d been able to prepare an answer. Now he’d have to, and he fervently hoped it would not be an answer that would haunt either Lisa or him in the future.

“I find her quite attractive; one would have to be blind not to. She’s rather intelligent, although reserved in her manner. We’ve been spending some time in each other’s company, but it’s too soon to say what might come of that.”

Snape held his breath, waiting to see how Voldemort would react. Would he demand that Snape prove his loyalty by insisting she be brought before him? Would he wait to see if Snape and Lisa would become intimately involved before voicing that thought?

“And you feel she’d benefit our cause by joining us?”

“I’m not sure, my Lord. I know she’d prove loyal to you, but I don’t know exactly how that would benefit us at this time. Other than gathering information, much as I do, I don’t know what other skills she could offer.”

“You do much more than that, my loyal friend,” Voldemort replied. “I rely on your skills in Potions, as well as your common sense. You’ve saved me from many things that might have meant my end, as well as those little annoyances that serve to distract and upset me.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I do try.”

“So, she has no other skills than the usual brand of magic?”

“None that I could discern, my Lord. Perhaps when I know her better, something will become apparent. However, were she to join us, she would most likely offer up whatever skills she can to you. Most do.”

“It would depend upon her degree of sincerity. How is she at casting spells?”

“She’s had to defend herself against that pesky poltergeist,” Snape said. “Granted, it didn’t amount to much, but she’d proven herself to be quick on the draw, and merciless. I believe Peeves is still afraid to face her down.”

“It’s a good start,” the Dark Wizard agreed. “I remember that obnoxious ghost from my own school days.”

“My Lord, do I have your permission to bring Miss Carus along with me for our next meeting?”

“Yes, Severus, bring her. Kindly inform her of my eccentricities before then, if you would. I would hate for her to get off on the wrong foot with me simply because of her ignorance.” The Dark Wizard stood when Snape did, giving his hand to Severus, who bowed to touch it to his forehead; the typical show of respect upon leaving Voldemort’s presence. “I will be summoning all of the Death Eaters in this area within the next two weeks,” he told him. “I look forward to meeting your new protégé.”

As the Dark Lord escorted Snape to the front room, where he would use the Dark Mark to send him back to Hogwarts, he put a hand on the younger wizard’s shoulder; a familiarity that was new to Snape, and probably to Voldemort as well. What in the world was causing the Dark Lord to behave so casually?

“I’m glad you came by, Severus,” he said. “You may never know how I value this visit. I hope you realize you are always welcome here. Just sitting here, discussing the latest news, critiquing a book we’ve both read...I enjoy your company. More than you know.”

Snape felt a terrible sinking sensation deep in the pit of his gut. The Dark Lord was moving his hand on Snape’s shoulder in an alarming way, and he began to feel as if the dreaded wizard was actually coming on to him. Praying it wasn’t so, he schooled his features to show nothing as he turned to thank Voldemort for his time.

He allowed Voldemort to take his arm and murmur an incantation under his breath. He felt the dizzying swirl of Disapparation, and drew in a sigh of relief that the dreaded meeting was at an end.

 

In the Great Hall at dinnertime, Snape glared at the empty seat across the row of tables. He’d searched the grounds and castle for her when he’d returned from seeing Voldemort, but couldn’t find her anywhere. Minerva had offered the unwelcome news that Lisa had left the grounds, but hadn’t mentioned where she was going.

Pushing aside the dinner that he no longer wanted, he stood to leave. Passing by the back of Albus’ chair on his way out, he was irritated when the old wizard took his arm, preventing his exit. “Severus, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you. Are you free now?”

Stifling a sigh of impatience, he nodded curtly. The headmaster stood, and Snape followed him out into the corridor, away from others’ hearing. “Is anything wrong, Headmaster?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you, Severus. You seem perturbed.”

“I need to speak to Miss Carus, and the sooner the better.”

“Ah, Miss Carus. Does that mean there’s been progress toward our proposed plan?”

“I have arranged for her to attend the next meeting of Dark Wizards. I fear the time has passed when she could change her mind without repercussions from him.”

“And do you feel she would have changed her mind?”

“No, Albus,” he said quietly. “I’ve tried to talk her out of it these past few months, but she’s determined.” He looked intensely into the old wizard’s eyes. “I’ve always felt as if she were making up for some past crime, some sort of wrong-doing, Albus. What do you know of her past?”

“What makes you think I know any more than you, Severus?”

He recognized the flimsy attempt to duck the question. “She once told me that you’d contacted her about this apprenticeship before she’d advertised her qualifications. What was it that compelled you to contact her?”

Albus nodded silently in acknowledgement of Snape’s ability to narrow in on things that others let sail right over their heads. “She _is_ atoning, Severus. She had committed a crime in her youth that she feels has no pardon; guilt has been plaguing her ever since. If she can do this, she might yet be free of it.”

“And what crime was that?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Severus. Please don’t push it; it’s her guilt, her crime, and if she doesn’t want me to know about it, she might not want you to know about it either.”

“I thought you said you did know of it.”

“I’m afraid I know none of the details. And you know as well as I, Severus, that until all points-of-view are heard, no one can say he knows the story. Let’s just let her deal with it the way she sees fit.”

“But her way of dealing with it could get her killed...or worse! Just pushing her for that information could have prevented all of this! Perhaps this guilt shouldn’t be hers? She’d be putting her life on the line for nothing!”

“I can’t force her to reveal her secrets, Severus.”

“Are you pretending to forget all about Veritaserum?”

“Not in this case,” Albus answered. “It’s all about free will, Severus. She’s no child that must be protected from herself. Let it go.”

With that, Albus turned and walked back into the Great Hall, leaving Severus to doubt the old wizard’s motives in all this. Was he simply glad to have found a new weapon for the Order? Was she just another example of a human pawn, being played on the headmaster’s mental chessboard?

He turned, and with a determined step, he headed for the staircase that would take him up to Lisa’s rooms. Upon finding she still wasn’t there, he began pacing the corridor in front of the portrait of Lady Withers, which still hadn’t been replaced, and getting more and more agitated at Lisa’s absence. After the first protest from Lady Withers, he’d hexed her with a silencing charm, so as he paced, he was able to think.

She’d missed dinner; no doubt that meant she’d made another date with Malfoy. As it was a dinner date, which was much less innocent than a luncheon date, he wondered angrily if she’d allow him to entice her to his private quarters, ostensibly to view his ‘ancient tomes’? Just how intense was her interest in the Dark Arts? He knew she was keenly interested in the Druids; she practically preached their teachings in her classes. That could be harmless enough, but couple that with her interest in contemporary Dark Arts and what did that say about her?

And she’d enjoyed dancing with Malfoy; he saw that at the dinner party to which he sincerely regretted taking her. Were they, right now, doing anything more than reading? Under Narcissa’s very nose? It wouldn’t be the first time; he knew Malfoy made a habit of it, but he’d thought Lisa was above all that.

He was wearing out a path before her door, and Lady Withers’ silent glares were beginning to get to him. He removed the charm that kept her silent, and headed back down the stairs before she could berate him for it.

Leaving the castle by the Entrance Hall, he peered through the falling darkness to the main gate. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew she’d come back, so he began patrolling the grounds. It was Minerva’s night for duty, but she wouldn’t complain. And he could use the opportunity to vent out some of his frustration on randy students who shouldn’t be out here anyway.

He’d deducted a total of three hundred points from three different Houses before returning to the front of the castle. Relieved, he could see Lisa making her way to the doors at last. He waited until she caught up with him before saying anything.

“I wondered if you were going to make it back tonight,” he said, acid heavily lacing his sneering voice. “What’s the matter, did Narcissa kick you out?”

She cocked her eyebrow at him, half a smile forming on her impudent mouth. “You were waiting up for me, Severus? Isn’t that just precious?”

“I needed to speak with you; it’s rather urgent, and here you are, displaying behavior that most respectable witches avoid.”

“I never claimed to be respectable, Severus, and you are the only one appearing to be worried about my absence from the castle tonight.”

“And _were_ you with that amorous wizard tonight?”

“Of course I was. Where else would I be?”

“You don’t even have the decency to deny it,” he shot back.

“Oh, relax,” she said, heading into the castle. “It was a harmless dinner. He’s a charming conversationalist and I enjoyed his company. You sound like a jealous husband.”

“Hardly,” he protested, following her inside. Lowering his voice slightly, he kept up his tirade. “I’m merely trying to look out for your best interests.”

“But I thought we agreed this situation is far beyond your being able to protect me, Severus.”

“We didn’t agree to anything. You decided. You have a martyr complex.”

She turned to look at him, frowning. “It’s only martyrdom if I don’t deserve it, Severus. Let’s not get into that right now. It’s exhausting, having the same conversations over and over again.”

He grabbed her arm before she could begin to climb the stairs. “We need to discuss matters. Your place, or mine?”

She smiled tiredly. “Mine. That way I can kick you out when you get real tiresome.”

He sneered, allowing her to head up the stairs ahead of him, pretending he wasn’t that interested in the view.

“Good evening, Lady Withers,” she said to the portrait. “How are you tonight?”

“Hmph!” came the answer. The old bat turned her back on the two of them. Lisa raised her eyebrows, looking at Snape. Then, understanding came into her eyes. “You’ve had words with her, haven’t you?” she asked him.

“What makes you think so?”

She didn’t answer, but led the way into her rooms, closing and warding the door behind him. He threw himself onto her couch, glaring at her as she took off her cloak and joined him. He noticed the dress she wore. A deep green color, with dark green trim; it highlighted her eyes. It was simply cut, and very elegant. The same gold chain with the agate pendant was around her neck, and he noticed, for the first time, that the swirls of color in the stone were moving.

Noticing his stare, she picked up the stone, looking for herself. “Yes, it does that. It’s been charmed by some distant relative. The swirls usually mean a major change is coming.” Hearing her own words, she looked up in alarm at Snape.

“You’ve seen Voldemort, haven’t you? I’m in?”

Amazed at her perception, and noting the sudden paleness of her features, he simply nodded. “Within the next couple of weeks, I will be summoned, along with all the other Death Eaters in the United Kingdom. You will make his acquaintance then. And you’d do well to begin to think of him as ‘my Lord’ and ‘Lord Voldemort’ rather than anything less formal. It will not help your standing in his eyes if you slip. You remember everything I’ve told you?”

“I think so. This first meeting should be relatively easy for me, don’t you think? If I’m not to address him, or even look him in the eye, there’s less chance of my making a mistake, isn’t there?”

“I hope so. He was very interested in meeting you, so be on your toes. He’ll be watching you, even when he appears not to be.”

She frowned, staring into space, her thoughts far away. He watched quietly, wishing he could make it all go away. He didn’t want to take her there; he didn’t want Voldemort to know her. He hadn’t wanted Malfoy to know her either; and yet he was the one to introduce them. Now he would be introducing her to Voldemort himself. He was in no position to protest. And he also knew that if any harm befell her, he’d have no one to blame but himself.


	7. Shocking Discoveries

Chapter Seven  
Shocking Discoveries

He saw her face tighten when he couldn’t suppress the hiss at the pain radiating from the mark on his arm. They’d been going over details of her background--as much information as she’d allowed him, anyway--trying to decide what was safe to reveal to any of the Death Eaters. He’d felt the raw stinging of the mark when it started, but wanted to finish their discussion before he let her know that tonight was the night.

When there really wasn’t much more to say, he rolled up the sleeve of his coat and shirt to reveal the mark to her. She gasped, her eyes never leaving the mark as the dark colors became more visible, the eyes on the skull seeming to take on a luminosity of their own.

“Lisa, we have to go now.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but stood up and went over to his fireplace. He grabbed a small handful of Floo-powder and tossed it into the flames. Kneeling before the green flash of fire, he stuck his head inside to tell Albus they were off. Returning to her side, he looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to hide the fear that was so apparent to him.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, he was relieved to see the fear hidden. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him nearer, surprising him. She pressed her lips to his, and he wrapped his arm around her, returning the kiss. There was something desperate in both of them, and he tried to reassure her with his lips, with his body, that he’d be there for her.

Hearing the crackling of his fireplace, he pulled away from her as Albus climbed from the fire. “I had hoped I could catch you before you left,” he said by way of greeting. “I wish you both the best. Lisa,” he said directly to her, “you have the strength that comes from knowing you’re doing what’s right. And Severus,” he said, turning to Snape, “she’s a talented witch; don’t forget that when you feel the urge to destroy everything you’ve worked for these several years. Relax. I have every faith that the two of you can pull this off. Return safely.”

There was nothing more to say. As the burning on his left arm became more intense, Snape led her out the hidden door behind his kitchenette to the secret passageway that would take him out of the castle unseen by unknowing eyes. They quickly made their way to the Forbidden Forest, where he leaned against a tree, gasping out. She pushed herself between him and the tree. “What is it?”

“It’s just the mark. You’ll find that it burns with ever-growing intensity until the summons is answered. We don’t have much more time.”

He brought his arm up in front of him, nodding to her. She encircled his waist with her left arm, her right hand resting on his chest. With his right hand, he traced a pattern of movements on the mark, and they were Disapparated into the night.

He held her arm, signaling her to keep back, and he approached Voldemort on the ornate chair he’d placed in the middle of what looked like an abandoned churchyard. He knelt to kiss the robes of the Dark Lord, waiting for permission to rise and address him.

“Welcome, Severus,” he said. “It’s a meeting I’ve been looking forward to.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he raised his eyes to Voldemort’s, automatically engaging his Occlumency skills to Voldemort’s probing. Satisfied, Voldemort smiled warmly at him. “And what news today, my loyal friend?”

“I have with me your new servant, my Lord. May I?”

At his nod, Snape beckoned to Lisa to come forward. She came, her eyes demurely lowered, and stood quietly as Snape turned back to Voldemort. “This is Lisa Carus, my Lord. She is ready to serve you.”

“Approach me, Lisa Carus,” he boomed out. The other Death Eaters began inching forward, all but Malfoy surprised at the new face. Lisa came forward, eyes still on the ground. “I will allow you to kiss my robes.”

He’d forgotten to warn her about that. It was normally the first test Voldemort issued new recruits. Knowing his attempt at Legilimency be useless without eye-contact, he held his breath, hoping she’d not cross any lines with Voldemort.

She knelt and kissed the robes at Voldemort’s feet, staying in position, her eyes still on the ground. She said nothing, but waited for Voldemort to bid her to stand. Snape could have cheered. She had passed the first trial.

“Arise. Take your place next to Severus.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, he escorted her back about ten feet and gestured to a spot next to him in line with the others. She showed nothing on her face as she followed his silent orders. Was there a chance this would play out? He schooled his thoughts to focus on Voldemort’s address to his followers. He had no speeches to make; apparently no one was in his serious disfavor at the moment.

Bellatrix Lestrange spoke up upon invitation to inform the group of a security gap they might exploit to gain control of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, but no one seemed impressed. Crabbe offered information that one of their defected members was spotted in Spain, but as that traitor had already been dealt with, Crabbe suffered a mild Cruciatus for being so late with the information. He should have come forward immediately with this.

“Then we shall welcome our newest guest to our midst. Lisa Carus, come forward!”

With a heaviness in his heart, Snape watched helplessly as Lisa, with no hesitation, walked forward a few paces to stand in the circle of Death Eaters.

“Severus tells me that you’re not quite supportive of the Ministry’s attempt to rule over the wizarding world, Miss Carus,” Voldemort said. “I’m happy you’ve made the acquaintance of one of my most loyal servants; you will find that this world I’m planning, one that we could make happen, might be better suited to you.”

She bowed to acknowledge the wisdom of his words, still not saying anything. Snape was proud of the restraint she was showing; most new recruits would assume this direct address from the Dark Lord meant that he or she was free to respond. She was thinking clearly, and that could only bode well for her, and for Snape.

“Return to your place in line,” he told her. Without turning around, she backed up until she was once again at Severus’ side. He dared not look at her.

Voldemort stood, waving his hands around, and tables laden with food appeared. Another wave of his arm and there was music coming from some invisible trio. “Let’s celebrate another year of unity and the fight against bureaucratic Squibs who insist on telling us how to live! Make merry!”

With that, all the Death Eaters visibly relaxed, the formalities of the meeting over with. Snape turned to Lisa. “You can speak now,” he told her, “but, again, never directly to Lord Voldemort. From here on in, it’s not much different from any dinner party. You might even be asked to dance.” _Please don’t let it be Malfoy,_ he silently prayed.

Think of the devil... Malfoy appeared by their side, smiling widely. “Severus, Lisa, you could have knocked me over with a feather. Welcome, Lisa.” She smiled at him, and Snape suppressed a grimace. He watched in distaste as Malfoy put an arm familiarly across Lisa’s shoulders, leaning down to whisper into her ear. Snape eavesdropped unabashedly.

“I appreciate your interest in certain studies, my dear,” he was saying. “But I don’t believe our Lord will. You might want to hide that information from anyone here.” Looking up at Snape, he added, “Present company excepted, of course. You have no doubt already been shown Severus’ own collection of Dark Arts information?”

Her eyes lit up, connecting to Snape’s. “Your collection? How is it you’ve never offered to show me?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but was spared having to answer when their host approached. Bowing their heads slightly, Snape peeked at Lisa, hoping she’d remember to avoid looking the Dark Wizard in the eye.

“Lucius, as much as I enjoy your company, please be so kind as to remove yourself so that I may have a word with Severus and Lisa.”

Malfoy curled his lip at Severus, but hastily made his retreat.

“Severus, Lisa, I have a request to make.” Snape’s stomach suddenly clenched like a fist. There was no such thing as a request from Voldemort. It would be an order, and he hoped it wouldn’t be something deadly or humiliating.

“I would like some entertainment. However, I’m not talking about this ridiculous excuse for music, or the vacuous conversation most of these imbeciles are prone to engage in.” Snape waited for the axe to fall, refusing to let his imagination get the better of him.

“Lisa,” he said, looking directly at her, in spite of her eyes being downcast. “I wonder if you would mind servicing Severus? Nothing too out-of-the-norm, just perhaps a simple display of...well, let’s say, oral pleasures? Severus, you’ve no objection?”

He was at a loss for words. He looked at Voldemort, his eyes widened in surprise. Voldemort didn’t seem put out by Severus’ shock, and simply waited patiently for his acquiescence. Smiling decisively, he returned to his seat, conjuring up another like it next to his.

Snape turned quickly to Lisa. “Forgive me, Lisa,” he told her. “I never expected something like this. Especially at this first meeting. You’re not even branded yet! Just fake it; I’m sure we’ll be able to use our robes to hide most of this, but please put your best acting talents forward; I’ll try to do the same. There’s no telling what he’d do if he finds out we’re not really doing this.”

She didn’t answer him; he led the way over to the chair and sat down at Voldemort’s gesture, turning to face Lisa, who was approaching more slowly. She never took her eyes off his as she stopped before him, standing silently, the smallest hint of a smile on her face. He was relieved she didn’t show fear.

As the others’ conversations began slowly dying out, as they drew nearer to see what was going on, Snape took a deep breath and wondered where he went from here. As the other Death Eaters approached to get a better view, Lisa leaned forward to brush his lips with hers, her arms braced on his, which were resting on the arms of the chair.

He closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness of her soft lips. She moved them across his so slowly, sensuously, and his pulse began to speed up. He felt her tongue cautiously poke between his lips, and he opened up, deepening the kiss. His body was reacting; he wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. If he walked away from this display with a raging hard-on, everyone would know it hadn’t been real.

She moved her lips down to his neck, nipping and licking at him, nuzzling the slight hollow just below his ear. With his lips on the side of her face away from Voldemort, he whispered, “Careful, Lisa; I’m not the world’s greatest actor.”

“Whatever you say, Severus,” she breathed into his ear. He panted out his breath, surprised by the teasing tone of her voice. Why was she tormenting him this way? Couldn’t she feel his response? She was effectively setting both of them up for failure and Voldemort’s wrath.

He was about to whisper these complaints into her ear, but before he could, she’d moved to kneel before him, her hands working on the clasps of his robes. He stared into her eyes, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to try Legilimency on her. With each clasp opened, she spread his robes out; he could feel the cool night air on his suddenly overheated skin.

She leaned over him, her warmth caressing him from his thighs to his neck, where she was again kissing him, lingering over the pulse beating there. Her hands were moving all over his chest, and her lips soon followed. As she skillfully teased at his nipples with her lips and tongue, he leaned his head back, his breath coming fast. His peripheral vision took in the Death Eaters watching avidly; lowering his gaze to Malfoy, he noticed the blond wizard’s hand stealthily moving in a rhythmic motion under the robes. He forced the image from his mind, feeling like a cheap, Muggle porn star.

He felt her hands moving lower, brushing across the hardness in his trousers. As she deftly opened his fly, he gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white. All right, there was no getting around this, he knew. Voldemort was too near them to avoid this sort of contact between them. But how to hide his arousal after they’d acted out this scene? And would he get away with using his robes to hide what she was supposed to be doing to him?

She began stroking him, and he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. He felt the wetness seeping out of him; she used the palm of her hand to redistribute it down the length of his shaft, and he moaned in his surprise and excitement. Is this what she called faking it?

As she held him more tightly and stroked up and down, his breathing became erratic; he slid his hips forward in his chair, helpless to do anything else. She used one hand to lift his balls, pushing them against his shaft and lightly massaging them. He forgot about the wizards and witches surrounding them as he gasped out to the night air.

He watched unbelievingly as she lowered her head; his eyes squeezed shut as her tongue teased the sensitive head of his cock, and there was no more question in his mind; she had no intention of faking this. As she used her mouth to tease him, her hand still firmly gripping him, he stole a look toward Voldemort, who was watching her intently. He looked up at Severus and smiled. Severus didn’t know what was behind that smile, but as he felt Lisa pulling his length into her hot mouth, he wasn’t sure he cared.

“Yessss...ohhhh yes...” She had apparently taken him at his word when he said he wasn’t anybody’s idea of an actor. Thankfully, he didn’t have to fake his response. Gripping the arms of the chair, his hips began moving in time to the rhythm of her sucking. “Lisa...oh, yes, Lisa...”

He heard the wavering of his voice; it wasn’t a sound he normally associated with himself. He wondered briefly at the intensity of his body’s response. He’d never been the center of attention while undergoing such a personal occupation; could it be this public display that was causing his unusually vocal reaction?

He ceased to care; his brain was no longer functioning on any cognizant level as she took him in deep enough so that he could feel the back of her throat. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy push Bellatrix down to her knees in front of him. As he opened his robes and forced himself into her mouth, his eyes never leaving the erotic scene before him, Snape looked away, focusing his eyes down to his crotch. It was so stimulating to see her working her mouth over him; he felt his balls tighten with his approaching orgasm.

His guttural utterances filling the nearly silent night around them, he gave up trying to control the movement of his hips, thrusting into her mouth as she sucked him. “Ohhhh...gods, yes...oh, oh...OHHH...LISA...” He erupted into her mouth, photons of light exploding behind his closed eyes as he gasped out his ecstasy; her hot mouth still on him, swallowing what he gave her. His body jerked involuntarily as her mouth and tongue swirled around his sensitive-more-than-sensitive cock. He groaned loudly as she pulled back one last time, and she looked up at him, a sparkling glint of something indefinable in her eyes.

As she tucked him back into his trousers, he inadvertently glanced at Malfoy. He suppressed a shudder as Malfoy pushed Bellatrix away and closed his robes. He couldn’t discern the look on Malfoy’s face, but he knew he’d be wise to avoid him in the near future. He guessed it hadn’t been Bellatrix on Malfoy’s mind as she’d ministered to him. He glanced again at Lisa, making a mental note to warn her about Malfoy at the first opportunity. The glare Malfoy had sent his way could only mean that Malfoy coveted Snape’s place in the scenario that had just been played out.

As Lisa worked the clasps on his robes once again, he ventured a look at Voldemort. The Dark Wizard had a smile of contentment on his face, and again, Severus wondered at his motivation behind this ‘request’. Was he simply a voyeur, getting satisfaction from watching? Malfoy’s actions seemed to make more sense, but Voldemort hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to take an active part at all. Should he simply allow himself to feel relief at that, or was there more waiting?

“Excellent show, Lisa! All right,” he called out to the others, “eat up, drink up, and begone with you! Severus,” he added to the still-stunned wizard at his side, “I’d like a word with you before you Disapparate tonight. Allow Lisa to leave without you, and come see me in a few minutes.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he answered shakily.

He didn’t trust himself to stand just yet, and so he pulled Lisa down to his lap. “What were you thinking of?” he asked bewilderingly.

“Well,” she answered, and he noticed for the first time that she had a small dimple at the corner of her lips. “He was so near, I was afraid that if we tried ‘faking’ it, he’d know right away. It seemed the wise thing to do.”

He had no answer for this, and didn’t try to stop her when she leaned closer and touched her lips to his. He would never know what to make of her. When she sat back from him, breaking the kiss, he entwined his hands in her hair and pulled her to him. He kissed her, tasting her lips and swallowing her moan. When he broke the kiss, he looked into her eyes, wishing he could read them as well as he needed to. Was this really something she’d wanted to do, or was it borne out of fear of Voldemort?

As the Death Eaters began leaving ranks, one or two at a time, he told her to Disapparate back to Hogwarts. He warned her, “Don’t stop anywhere else along the way, Lisa. I have something I need to talk to you about, regarding your friend, Lucius. It might save you from serious harm to avoid him until I can speak to you.”

She frowned, nodding slowly. He knew she took his words seriously. She stood up, using her wand to Disapparate, leaving him to find Voldemort and pay his respects. He wondered what more there was to be said tonight, and a new feeling of dread made its presence known in his gut.

He slowly approached the Dark Wizard, and once again was surprised when Voldemort warmly clasped his shoulder in greeting. “Severus, you did me proud tonight. I’m very happy with Lisa, at least so far, and your performance here tonight further endeared you to my heart. Let’s away with all these others so we can speak privately.”

Trepidation making his legs feel constructed of wood, he watched helplessly as Voldemort spoke a few words to encourage the rest to leave immediately. As the last one Disapparated, he waved his hands to clear away the remainder of the feast, and he silenced the music.

“Let’s go back to my temporary home and talk things over.” He had no choice but to allow Voldemort to grip his arm so they could Disapparate, entering Voldemort’s sitting room. He collapsed on the chair at Voldemort’s gesture, where a bottle of Ogdens’ and a couple of shot glasses were already waiting for them.

Pouring Snape a drink, then helping himself to one, Voldemort’s good cheer continued. “I suspect you’ve never realized how I felt about you,” he said. Snape’s whiskey caught in his throat, choking him. As Voldemort waited for him to regain his breath, he sipped his own whiskey patiently. “I see I guessed correctly. I know you like women, Severus. Never fear; I think too much of you to force myself on you.

“In any event, it’s impossible to do anything about it. When I took that potion a couple of years back, using Pettigrew’s hand, Potter’s blood, and the bone of my father, I had made a horrible mistake. Because of that mistake--my mistake being not engaging your services with the potion--I condemned myself to the life of a eunuch.

“However, I find I still get immense pleasure from my imagination, especially if using visual aids. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated the show you and Lisa put on for me tonight. Will you follow me? I want to show you something.”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood and walked toward the hallway. Snape scrambled to follow, dreading what he would be shown. Snape followed the Dark Wizard into a bedroom, where his host waved his hand around to produce light. It looked like an ordinary bedroom, so Snape worried that Voldemort hadn’t intended to show him anything; but what was it he wanted to do?

“Relax, Severus,” he laughed. “I didn’t bring you in here to seduce you. I’ve already told you that it’s impossible. Take a closer look at this portrait.”

Snape looked, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing. He looked back at Voldemort, his question unasked.

“It doesn’t look like anything but the usual wall hanging, does it? Yet, I can sit comfortably on the other side of this wall and see everything that goes on in here. Do you follow me yet?”

_Only too well._ To confirm his suspicions, Voldemort continued. “I would like you to invite Lisa here to...play,” he said. “Am I correct in assuming that this evening was the first time the two of you had been...intimate?”

“Yes, my Lord. There hasn’t been that much time...very little privacy at the castle...it’s difficult to pursue a relationship with everyone knowing everyone else’s business.”

“Then this could be the perfect solution for all of us,” Voldemort said. “You have your own hideaway here, and I get my perverted, vicarious thrills as well. Or am I asking too much?”

“No, my Lord. Your wish is my command.”

“And what will your lovely Lisa think about all this?”

“It’s probably best if I didn’t mention your part in it,” Snape answered weakly. “I rather doubt she’d want to go along with it. Tonight was an exception, I think. She was caught up in the feeling of acceptance. But she seems a mite old-fashioned and private in her ways, so...”

“Will she agree to meet you here sometimes?”

“Possibly. I hadn’t had time to speak to her much after we... I’m not entirely sure she’d like to commit herself to any sort of relationship with me. What if she isn’t interested, my Lord?”

“Then I’ll deal with my disappointment, that’s all. Don’t worry, Severus. I’m not likely to hold it against you.”

_But will you hold it against her?_ Following Voldemort from the room, his thoughts far away, he realized he was being dismissed. Forcing himself to concentrate, just in case the change in Voldemort was fleeting, he bowed to touch his forehead to Voldemort’s hand. “Until we meet again, my Lord.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Severus. With or without Lisa, you’re always welcome here.”

He was Disapparated by Voldemort to the Dark Forest, resting against an oak tree, struggling to make sense out of the evening just passed. He was startled to find that Lisa was leaning against that same tree, having waited for him to arrive.

“Are you insane? I told you to get right back to the castle! What if Malfoy had followed you here?”

“Relax, Severus, I was watching out for him. What did you want to tell me about him? And what did Voldemort want to talk to you about in private?”

He threw an arm companionably across her shoulders as he led her toward the grounds of Hogwarts. “Oh, Lisa...have I got news for you.”


	8. Does She or Doesn't She?

Chapter Eight  
Does She Or Doesn’t She?

She hadn’t said a word as he explained what Voldemort’s wishes were. Her eyes had widened, but she had just stared at him, waiting for him to finish. When he finally did, he stopped his pacing and sat on the sofa next to her. Bracing his arms on his legs and staring at the floor, he waited for her to blast him for not successfully getting her out of this mess.

After a prolonged silence, he chanced a look at her. She was still looking at him, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Lisa, say something. You must have some kind of reaction to this news.”

“I’m wondering how hard you fought to change his mind.”

“It’s not an easy matter, suggesting his ideas are bad. I don’t suggest you try it.”

“You agreed, then?”

“You understand that I allowed him to believe you wouldn’t know about the all-seeing portrait? I asked him how he’d feel if you didn’t want a relationship with me. He told me he’d deal with his disappointment. I can’t say, with any degree of certainty, how he would do that. He claimed that he wouldn’t hold it against me, but I wonder if he’d hold it against _you._ I’m not entirely sure he wouldn’t take out his resentment on you, or what form that resentment would take.”

“I never envisioned actually performing such private...activities...for someone else’s vicarious pleasure.”

“The same thing went through my mind at the revel tonight, when you were...” He let his words trail off, not really wanting to put into words that which he hadn’t had time to toss over in his own mind yet.

“You’re not upset, then, that I did what I did?”

“How can I be? You probably saved us both from unrelenting torture, and I know there’s no doubt in your mind that I enjoyed it immensely. Who wouldn’t?”

“It never would have happened if Voldemort hadn’t demanded it, would it have?”

He looked at her, not knowing how to answer. He’d thought about her; quite a bit, in fact. But to put any actions to his thoughts... No, it might never have happened. Especially in light of her budding relationship with Malfoy.

She moved nearer to him, her leg pressing against his, her hand on his shoulder. “If it hadn’t been for Voldemort making his ‘request’... If it were just you and me, together in this room... Would you have stopped me from doing what I did?”

He closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Why did she ask such demanding and direct questions?

“I guess I have my answer,” she said softly. “All things considered, do you really think you can comply with his wishes? I mean, it’s much more difficult for a man, isn’t it? A woman could fake things easily enough, but a man shows visible evidence when he’s aroused. I would imagine that Voldemort would be able to detect your lack of enthusiasm. Wouldn’t that be worse than simply telling him you wouldn’t be using that room?”

He looked at her incredulously. “First of all, you _don’t_ have your answer. I would not have stopped you. I just more or less assumed the only reason you did it was because of your fear of the Dark Lord and trying not to reveal your reasons for being there.

“Secondly, there would not be any lack of enthusiasm on my part. I would defy any man to fail to respond to you as soon as he felt your hands on him...your lips...your mouth...” He’d turned to face her squarely, and he could hear his breathlessness in his own voice. He knew she heard it as well, and he saw how her eyes darkened, her eyes heavy-lidded.

He tilted his face lower, and she lifted her lips to his. Tasting her sweetness, he lifted his hand to caress her face, nibbling at her lower lip. Immediately, his thoughts turned back to the evening’s meeting, and, unbidden, Malfoy’s face appeared in his mind. He pulled away from her abruptly.

“Lisa,” he said as she sat back, disappointment and questions in her eyes. “About Malfoy--”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated with him. “Of all the names to bring up,” she complained.

“I think it’s important that you know what happened while you were...otherwise occupied,” he explained. “He really enjoyed the show we put on. I mean, he was _really_ enjoying it. He might have been using Bellatrix, but it was most assuredly you he was imagining. And the look he threw my way immediately afterward was enough to make me think twice about turning my back on him. I think you should be aware of how much he wants you, and this evening could only have increased his interest in you. He’s never been famous for his restraint.”

“I’ll be careful, Severus. I think if I ignored him completely, or acted coldly toward him after our friendship has progressed as far as it has by now, it would make him wonder what happened. But I will be on my guard. I do take your concerns seriously, you know.”

He nodded slightly, knowing it was as good a promise as he would ever get from her. “So, are you willing to go along with the Dark Lord on this? Do you think you could stand to be there with me? And with him watching?”

“I suppose there are more difficult trials Death Eaters have gone through,” she said, smiling sardonically. “But when are we to do this? Isn’t it rather difficult to respond to a command performance, so to speak?”

“Not in this case. I have no idea when this will happen. I’m not even sure if he’ll summon me the usual way. Normally, he touches the Dark Mark of whichever Death Eater is nearby. But that summons all the rest, and he specifically told me that it would be just the two of us, although he’ll be lurking out of sight.”

“You don’t expect him to send you an owl, or anything like that, do you? Or are you to contact him?”

“He never really explained that part to me. I was too stunned to ask. Let’s wait and see what, if anything, happens in the next couple of weeks. If I don’t hear from him, I’ll contact him and ask him if we could use his room. That may well be how he figured things to happen, anyway.”

Still unable to believe all the things that had happened tonight, he made his excuses and left her rooms to hide in the relative safety of his familiar dungeon. He planned to throw himself into his bed, and not worry about sorting things out until he’d had more time to recover his senses.

As he lay down, too tired and confused to even remove his clothes, he assured himself of one thing: most of tonight’s events would never be told to Albus. Once he had assured Albus that the two of them were safely back, and none the worse for going, he pleaded exhaustion and promised to bring him up to date in the morning, seeing as how there was no news that was pressing enough to go into at the moment. Luckily, Albus hadn’t pushed the issue and Snape was relieved that he would have the time to sort out what could be told and what couldn’t be. That went for the Order, as well. He’d not have vicious gossip and snide remarks made about Lisa, and he certainly didn’t want nudges and winks from his fellow wizards.

 

He was relieved to find Lisa alone in the staffroom, but uncommonly irritated with her nonetheless. His night had been disturbing, and it didn’t make for a pleasant mood this morning. In the middle of quite a vivid dream, in which she was heavily featured, he’d awoken to find his undisciplined hand on himself, trying to continue the vision she’d created for him so as to entertain herself as he’d slept. Such a reprehensible invasion of privacy could not go unaddressed.

He stood near her seated form, silently waiting for her to look up and acknowledge him. She did, the spark in her eyes dying quickly at the look he knew was on his face. She stood to face him, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong, Severus?”

“How dare you force your way into my dream last night? What possessed you to take that uninvited, unwelcome, and entirely unexpected liberty? Have you no scruples at all?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but soon, he was enraged to see, a smile started at the corner of her lips and spread across her face. “You dreamed of me last night?”

He glared at her, his voice hissing. “Don’t be obtuse. You know full well what I dreamed last night. I don’t enjoy having to start my day with a cold shower.”

She leaned in closer to him; he felt her warm breath on his face, her heat on his body as she almost touched him. “Was I good?”

What cheek! He searched for words scathing enough to put her in her place, when she rolled her eyes at him, exasperated.

“Severus, I did not encroach your dreams. Whatever you dreamed last night, it wasn’t my doing.”

He stared at her, looking deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. He could see none, although she kept her eyes on him, as if inviting him to see everything. After a few seconds of thought, he ventured an attempt at Legilimency, waiting for the inevitable backlash as she threw it back at him. However, he was able to penetrate. Forcing himself to concentrate in spite of his surprise at her acquiescence, he probed, only to find that she’d been telling the truth. She hadn’t entered his dream.

He groped his way over to the nearest chair, seating himself before his legs could fail him. To have revealed such a thing to her, to have allowed her to know how she occupied his mind, even in his sleep... He looked up at her. Damn the woman! She was smiling widely, and he hated himself for having brought it up.

“So, Severus, don’t keep me in suspense. Give me some details!”

“I find it incredibly rude of you to find humor in this situation.”

“I’m not laughing _at_ you, Severus,” she said, her dimple showing. “I’m laughing _with_ you.”

He sneered at her, bringing his hand up to his temples and rubbing them. Thinking about how she’d allowed him to probe her mind, he looked up at her again. “Why didn’t you engage Occlumency just now?”

“I thought it was more important that you have no doubts about this. I know how you feel about my interest in...certain areas...and there’s enough about me that you don’t trust. We don’t need to add this to the list.”

She came forward to sit on the arm of his chair. “It’s necessary for me to be near my sleeping target,” she explained. “I couldn’t have manipulated your dream while I was asleep in my own bed. I don’t know if it’s the distance, or if I need to see exactly when you’re in REM sleep, or what it is; I just know there are limitations.

“I’m also told that the dreams I enter take on a different atmosphere, something totally unlike the normal dreams people have. Some sort of surreal quality; the colors are exaggerated, the very air is denser. It was once described to me as an artist’s rendition of the world of dreams. And if I had entered your dream last night, I would be too exhausted this morning to have risen from my bed. It takes an enormous amount of energy to do it.”

“You could have told me all that without submitting to Legilimency,” he debated. “Yet you let me in.”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me. I understand your strong feelings about this. It is a serious invasion of privacy. I mean, if you can’t even have the privacy of your own dreams...”

“And yet you let me invade your privacy. You feel as strongly about it as I.”

“I knew you wouldn’t probe any further than was necessary in order to put your fears to rest about that dream.”

“You trust me more than you feel I trust you.”

“This trust between us has to start somewhere, Severus. I’d like you to feel you could count on me at least half as much as I’ve come to count on you.”

He impulsively reached up, moving the back of his hand over the softness of her face. He was reminded of how much it must cost her to put her very life in his hands, to rely on him to keep her safe while in Lord Voldemort’s company; to keep her secret obsession with the Dark Arts from those that would not be so forgiving. He felt humbled.

She pressed into his hand, leaning closer to him. “So, how far did we get before you woke up?”

He pushed her off the chair, allowing a small smile to escape him at her laughter. Now that he knew he had nothing to be upset with her about, he planned to go over every detail of that dream as soon as possible. And it was sort of exciting, knowing she was aware of his preoccupation with her. She certainly hadn’t proven to be repelled by him, anyway. Speaking of which...

She’d picked herself up, smoothing down her robes. She looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow at what she must have seen on his face. “What is it, Severus?”

“I suppose we should discuss details of the Dark Lord’s invitation to use that room,” he answered. “Shall we say, this coming weekend?”

“That’s all right with me, Severus. I was wondering if you’ve had second thoughts.”

He nodded, acknowledging her agreement. As she was leaving the staffroom, she poked her head back inside long enough to throw one last teasing barb his way. “If it was enough to prompt you to do something about our Lord’s invitation, it must have been a hell of a dream.”

She scooted out before he could reply, and he poured himself a cup of coffee, smiling.


	9. Command Performance

Chapter Nine  
Command Performance

He looked into her eyes, searching for any sign that she’d rather be somewhere else, with other plans for this evening. He found none. Wondering if he was relieved or disappointed, he raked a hand through his hair nervously. “How is it you don’t seem ill-at-ease with what we’re about to do?”

She gazed at him thoughtfully before answering. “From what you told me when you first let me know the Dark Lord’s wishes, or rather, what you didn’t say, I know that his interest lies with you, not with me. As he watches, he won’t be imagining himself in your place, but in mine. It’s bound to be harder on you, knowing he’s there, than it will be on me.”

“Thank you so kindly for reminding me of that which I would sooner forget,” he said wryly.

She came to him, smiling, slipping her arms around his neck. “How does it feel to be such a stud?”

she purred. “Just think...the Great Lord Voldemort would choose to drool over you above all others.”

He growled at her, lowering his lips to nibble at her neck. _That’s right, keep your sense of humor._ They’d both need it.

“Have you done anything about...precautions?”

“A contraceptive charm?” she asked. “Taken care of.”

“And what do we do, exactly? I mean, how much of a show are we planning?”

“Severus, you have to stop thinking about this in that way. After all, this will be the first time we’ll be together since that first revel, just like he believes. We’re going to do something anyone in our situation would do. We’re not actors in a play, we’re lovers who will be learning just how to please each other. It won’t make any difference that he’s there. Remember, I’m not supposed to know about that, anyway.”

“Are we to be shy lovers?” he asked. “Should we preserve our own modesty by removing as few of our clothes as possible? Or are we to bare everything to him? It’s your call.”

“Let’s play it by ear,” she answered. “Who knows? Perhaps I’ll be able to make you forget we’re being watched.”

He smiled. “Pretty sure of yourself, are you?”

She didn’t answer, except to smile and cock one eyebrow at him.

He took his arms from around her waist, rolling up his sleeve to check the Dark Mark.

“I thought you said touching that mark calls out all the Death Eaters,” she noted, a touch of nervousness in her voice.

“He gave me new instructions,” he explained. “We’re to be ready to Disapparate at eight o’clock sharp. There is a certain pattern to be used when answering his normal summons; he changed the third step in that pattern for tonight. It will be just the two of us.”

“How sure are you of that?”

“I must confess, the idea of an ambush of sorts has crossed my mind. But we’re in no position to back down now, I’m afraid. And I do think he was on the level about his motives.”

“So, when do we Disapparate?”

“We have about seven minutes to get to the Dark Forest. Why don’t we go there now? I’d rather wait around there, than take a chance we’ll be late if we linger here.”

As they headed out, his mind ran over the conversation he’d had with Albus about tonight’s plans. He was determined that Albus not find out what was really happening, and it had been difficult to hide the truth on his face and in his eyes as he allowed Albus to believe it was a normal summons. But since the last meeting had taken place so recently, the headmaster worried that things were moving too quickly, and he feared for their safety.

_“I don’t believe there’s anything to worry about, Headmaster. This is to be expected. The Dark Lord will continue to come up with ideas as to how to test Lisa’s loyalty before he finally decides to admit her into his realm. I expect a good many of these meetings before that happens, as he’s understandably becoming more cautious to new faces.”_

Dumbledore seemed to believe it, and so it cleared the way for future assignations. One less thing to worry about, he thought. Knowing the scheming old wizard only thought of them as weapons against the Dark Lord, he wondered how he’d feel if he knew what was really happening tonight.

Then he remembered Albus’ plea the morning after his first lesson with Lisa. _“Look after her, Severus. I’m worried about her.”_

Perhaps he was selling the old wizard short. But why was he so worried? Lisa had already proven herself to be at least as clever and powerful as most other Order members. What did Albus know that Severus didn’t?

His thoughts forced to the back of his mind now that they were in the forest, he watched as Lisa leaned comfortably back against a tree to wait. Almost immediately, his arm began to sting. At least it wasn’t the horrendous pain of a full summons, he thought, as he pulled her to his side. She clung to him as he lifted his arm to tap out the altered pattern on his mark. He held her close as the too-familiar swirling, nauseating sensation took them to Lord Voldemort’s love nest.

They’d Apparated directly into the room Voldemort had shown Snape on his last visit. Forcing his eyes away from the portrait on the wall, he turned to Lisa, suddenly at a loss as to his next move. She took the initiative, moving to stand before him, lightly pushing him until he could feel the bed at the back of his legs. She began to slowly, enticingly undo the clasps on his robes as she tilted her lips up to his.

He bent his head slightly to taste her lips, loving the soft feeling as he brushed his lips over hers. They were hot against his, and he was dismayed to realize his lips, as well as the rest of him, were somewhat cold. He was downright frightened, and he wasn’t sure it was because of the Dark Lord’s proximity.

But as her hands worked down the front of his robes, and she reached up to his shoulders to push them off, he felt his heart thumping in his chest. The increased circulation was already making him feel overheated, and as she began to work on the buttons of his shirt, he brought his hands to her hips, sliding them up her waistline and ribcage. Using his thumbs to test the weight of her breasts, he deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of her mouth.

She’d finished with his shirt, and worked on his fly. As she released his hard cock from his trousers, she moved her lips down his neck, to his chest, teasing his nipples with her talented mouth. He threw his head back, banging it against the beam that held the canopy, and, startled, he opened his eyes. Directly in front of him was the portrait, and he was reminded of who was behind it.

He felt himself begin to wilt, and cursed himself for the stray thought that could ruin things for both of them. Lord Voldemort did not handle frustration well.

Lisa, perceiving at once what the problem was, quickly took herself to the bed, and pulled him around so that he faced her, thus shielding him from view of the portrait. Feeling less exposed with his back to Voldemort, he sighed out his gratitude wordlessly to her. She suddenly brought her mouth down to him, and the unexpected move, the jolt of fire that raced through him caused him to groan out loud, and he gripped the beam over his head.

Once more hard enough to cut diamonds, or so it felt, he watched with a dry mouth as she raised herself to her knees on the bed, her eyes never leaving his as she slowly unclasped her own robes, dropping them to the bed. He swallowed, watching her hands painstakingly pull down the zipper of her shirt, then toss it aside. She wore nothing underneath.

Gripping the beam harder, he waited while she undid the snap on her jeans, pulling the material apart to force down the zipper. He could see the white band of her panties, so pristine-looking against her darker skin. She sat back, easing the jeans down her legs, and he let go of the beam to pull them off of her, throwing them in the general direction she’d tossed her shirt.

He felt himself throb with anticipation; it was almost painful. Throwing away what was left of his patience, he moved his shaking hands to the waistband of her panties, raising his eyes to hers, searching for regrets, for doubts. He could only see passion reflected there, and he pulled her panties down her legs, seeing the thatch of hair, only slightly darker than the silky tresses of her head.

She kicked away her panties, and he pushed her robes off the bed, kneeling down in their place. She scooted farther back, giving him room to join her there. Suddenly feeling his clothes were only getting in his way, impeding his progress, he stripped down faster than he’d ever done in his life.

He eased between her legs, settling his hips into the welcoming cradle she’d formed with hers. He pressed down on her, loving the feeling of her heat beneath his. Resting on his forearms, he teased her lower lip until she wound her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, urging his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues clashed, tasting each other, tracing lines in discovering the flavors of each other.

His fingers teased at her hard nipples, and when she moaned into his mouth, he couldn’t help rubbing his hardness against the wetness between her legs. She moved her hips, trying to capture him, and he reached down to guide himself into her.

Throwing back his head, he groaned as he felt her welcoming and hot canal grip tightly around him. He felt her thighs clench his legs convulsively; he pushed deeply into her, every nerve ending alert to her response to him. She was moaning his name and he lowered his head to put his lips to the throbbing pulse in her throat. Oh, gods, what it did to him to hear her voice in his ear, encouraging him, urging him on.

The friction was heating him up; he felt as if he were on fire inside of her. He shifted his hips, overwhelmed by the need to seek out every part of her, to feed the intense need in him as he physically searched, reaching for the release that would be the culmination of the rising furnace of pressure that began at his very core.

She began to rock her hips, catching on to his rhythm. Suddenly, he was plunging deeper, harder, and he lifted himself up on his forearms for the leverage he needed. As she called out to him, freeing him from his last inhibitions, he allowed the harsh sounds of his excitement to fill the room around them. “Lisa...my gods, oh...”

She shifted once more, and as he found depths in her beyond what was possible, he fell down to her, gripping her tightly in his arms. She arched under him, her nails ripping over his shoulders, her muscles inside gripping him like a fist as she gave in to her orgasm, each shockwave causing her to clench him tighter, internally and out. As the heat of her climax burned into him, he found his release, bucking like a wild animal, his voice raw with his shouts as he poured his liquid fire into her. Feeling the last of his climax as if it were forcibly pulled from him, he held himself on his shaking forearms over her, too dazed to move, too spent to think.

When his breathing more closely resembled normal, he shifted until he could pull her with him as he rolled over onto his back, her head resting on his chest. Willing his heartbeat to return to its usual rate, he ran his fingers tenderly through her thick hair, soothed by the soft caresses of her hand on his chest.

He was beginning to drift off when he felt her warm breath near his ear. “I think I heard something from another room,” she said. “Should we leave?”

With a jolt, he remembered the circumstances of their being here. His heart beginning to pound once more, he used his wand for a quick cleansing spell for the two of them and they began pulling on their clothes. Hoping he hadn’t been expected to speak to the Dark Lord before leaving, he held her as he traced the new pattern into his mark; they Disapparated back to the Dark Forest.

Once there, Lisa rested against a tree, hands behind her back, her legs slightly kicked out for balance. Severus put an arm on each side of her shoulders, leaning over to kiss her, loving the way her kisses made him feel. It was like kissing rose petals; such a sensuous feeling. “You were right,” he growled in her ear. “You made me forget we were being watched. It was the first time in my life that I’d been within fifty feet of the Dark Lord without realizing he was there.”

He was surprised to see her eyes widen fearfully, and he realized what he’d just said. She began trembling violently, and he could see that she’d come to the same idea. They had been so vulnerable. They wouldn’t have been prepared for anything unexpected. It could have been a lethal mistake for any Death Eater. What if it had been a planned ambush? What if the Dark Lord did have other plans? They would have been entirely at his mercy.

He gathered her in his arms, rubbing her back, trying to ease her fear.

“I’m all right,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “It’s kind of a delayed reaction. I forgot, too.”

Part of him was flattered at her admission, but another part of him wondered if either of them would be up for another tryst under Voldemort’s watchful eyes. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him. He returned the pressure, reaching up one hand to cup the back of her head, loving the closeness he felt with her. He knew now that he’d die before he’d allow anything happen to her. For the first time ever, he felt justified in the trust someone else placed in him.

The way he was feeling right at this moment, he knew he could face down Voldemort himself to spare her.

Presently, she loosened her grip on him, laughing softly. She looked into his eyes, as if feeling sheepish about her brief display of what she must have perceived as weakness. He kissed her once more before turning and heading toward the grounds of Hogwarts, his arm comfortably across her shoulders.

“When Albus asks us what happened, we’ll simply say that it was no more than a social call; that he was probing into your background. I think that would raise no further questions.”

“Does Albus ever try to probe into your thoughts the way the Dark Lord does?”

“Not since I first came to be in his service. But I always suspect he’ll begin to, especially if he thinks I’m becoming evasive. I don’t plan to be caught off-guard.”  
.  
“It must be incredibly difficult, working both ends this way,” she remarked.

“It’s never easy; I never expected it to be. I don’t regret working for Albus.”

She was silent, digesting his words. He wondered what thoughts were passing through her mind right now; if he’d ever be privy to her secrets.

“Lisa, I’ve been thinking about this situation,” he began. He waited until he had her full attention, as he led her through the gates of the castle. “When the Dark Lord decides you’re to be branded, why don’t we stage a fight between us? Then we can justify your change of heart.”

He immediately felt her distance, although she was walking as closely with him as before. “I can’t back out, Severus,” she said quietly. “And besides, whether or not we’re together, Voldemort will expect me to be loyal to him more than to you. If I were a true believer, it wouldn’t really matter how I felt about you, and I’m sure he knows that.”

He had no answer for that, but he’d be damned if he was going to give up trying to sway her. There must be a way to save her from herself, and from whatever Hell her life would become in the Dark Lord’s service. If he could string Voldemort along, keeping him happy by using that room, then he could buy some time for another plan. He had an idea, but it would be a last resort. It was something she’d never forgive him for, and he hated even thinking about it.

But when it came right down to it, he’d rather she hated him while she lived a normal life, than if she hated him for not saving her.


	10. Peeling Away the Petals of a Rose

Chapter Ten  
Peeling Away the Petals of a Rose

_What a strange relationship we’ve begun,_ Snape mused as his eyes took in Lisa toying with her dinner.

They had decided to have dinner in his rooms tonight, as opposed to ending their lesson for the evening to join the others in the Great Hall.

Referring to these meetings as lessons was euphemistic, he knew. There wasn’t much more he could teach her, and what was left fell more into the category of conversation than lessons. He no longer hesitated to preach to her about her sordid interest in the Dark Arts, and she had never refrained from showing him her impatience at his interference.

He knew she’d had lunch with Malfoy again this afternoon. He had asked her about it, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice. Did the strange affair between himself and Lisa give him the right to demand her fidelity? Were his worries because of what might be happening between Malfoy and Lisa, or was he afraid that Malfoy was educating her in the Dark Arts? He could no longer trust his motives where Lisa was concerned.

“Lisa,” he began, waiting until he knew she was giving him all her attention. “What had you in mind to do with that effigy?”

“I was simply studying it, Severus, trying to learn its secrets.”

“It’s an effigy. It has no secrets but what you give to it. When one gives up ownership of it, the characteristics...the powers...all bindings to its subject are wiped out.”

She frowned at him. “Do you realize that this is the most information you’ve ever given me about the Dark Arts?”

He refused to be distracted from his question. “What did you hope to learn from it?”

“What had been done with it.”

“And what difference could that have made to you? I assume you bought it from a wizard you’d never met before finding Knockturn Alley--that you have no idea who once owned it.”

“You assume wrong.”

He waited her out, aware that she knew he’d not give her any more answers unless she was more forthcoming. It wasn’t as long a wait as he would have had only a few weeks ago.

“Okay, I suppose I should tell you all about it. Maybe you’ll even try to help me understand.”

She pushed away her dinner plate, taking a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. His hopes rose, knowing that, finally, he would be allowed to learn at least some of the mysteries of this beguiling young witch before him.

“I didn’t buy the effigy from Knockturn Alley,” she said. “I found it among the personal effects in my parents’ home when I had to settle the estate.”

Her parents had practiced the Dark Arts? “When did your parents die, Lisa?”

“Years ago. My mother died when I was twelve, and my father, when I was about nineteen. There were no other relatives, and even though I had been estranged from my father since I had been twelve years old, I was the one the authorities contacted. I was still listed as the next of kin on all his legal documents.

“Before you ask, I was taken from my father because I was considered incorrigible, and someone he couldn’t control. I spent the rest of my minority in the care of foster families. Muggle foster families, as a matter of fact. There seems to be a dearth of magical families in America who are willing to take on someone else’s kids. The Muggles didn’t seem to mind, as I spent most of the year in school, anyway, only going home for vacations.

“After my first year of college, I was notified that my father was dead, and that I was needed in order for the estate to be closed. As I was going through the house, trying to prepare it for sale, I found the effigy among my father’s things. I knew it was his and not my mother’s. When she died, my father had gone through the entire house, getting rid of everything of hers. I assumed he didn’t want anything to remind him of her. He seemed quite torn apart when she died.”

“So, I assume that when your mother died, you began ‘acting out’, as the Muggle psychologists say, and that’s why you were considered incorrigible?”

“No.”

There was a long, painful pause, and Snape held his breath, knowing she was trying to decide what more she should reveal to him. With her next words, he knew they’d crossed into a new area of their relationship.

“It was believed that I was the one who killed her.”

He stared at her, her words echoing in his head. This was the crime for which she felt she had to atone? This was the guilt that had been eating away at her? But he realized she hadn’t admitted to it. _It was believed that I was the one who killed her._ What had really happened?

“Did you?” He could barely hear his own whispered words, but he knew that she did.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me, Lisa.”

“Mom and Dad were arguing a lot at the time. I didn’t know why; they were careful to hide their fights from me. One night, while I was up in my room doing my homework, it sounded like something new was added to the usual arguments. It frightened me; their voices were raised; they were actually screaming at each other. That was unusual; they were always concerned about what the neighbors would think. We lived in a Muggle neighborhood, and no one was supposed to know we were witches and a wizard.

“Dad was so angry I almost didn’t recognize his voice. He sounded like a stranger. Mom’s voice didn’t sound angry, but scared. I snuck downstairs to see what was going on, but before I got to the front room, where the voices were coming from, my mother ran from it, tripping over me.

“We both went sprawling to the floor, and I think I hit my head on the table or something. I don’t remember anything else until I awoke in the hospital. My father was there, but he wouldn’t look at me; he wouldn’t tell me anything about my mother, or what was wrong with me. I found out later that I had a skull fracture, and there are things from my childhood that I could no longer remember. Small spaces of some sort of amnesia. That’s why I couldn’t tell you how long I’d been using Occlumency. I just can’t remember.

“I went home from the hospital, but my father and I kind of stepped around each other after that. He’d petitioned the Muggle court to make me a ward of the courts, because he could no longer supervise me. The custody hearing...that was the last time I saw him. I didn’t know for sure that he’d died until...well, when the lawyers contacted me.”

His throat tightened at the thought of what she must have felt, being so young and so alone. His own father had detested him, and he knew well the pain. She must have seen this in his eyes, and she coldly waved away his sympathy.

“Don’t even say it, Severus,” she said. “My father and I were never close. I really didn’t suffer from having to leave home. In a lot of ways, it had come as a relief. My father was a difficult man to know. I was more afraid of him than hurt because he’d given me up. And my memories of my mother are fleeting, at best.”

“Did your foster family know of your magical abilities?”

“There were three families all together. And only one person in the last family knew. His name was Mark, and he was interested in all kinds of things, like the Dark Arts, voodoo, Druidism; he was the one that began my education in those things, or so I thought. I ended up majoring in history at college because of the interest he’d garnered in me about those subjects.

“By the time I’d found that effigy, I had a fairly sound education in that particular field. It was an interesting bit of enlightenment for me...the realization that my father was involved in such things. But there was nothing else among his belongings that explained anything more about why he had that effigy. I didn’t know who it was supposed to represent, as I had no idea who my father’s enemies were.”

“Do you believe you were responsible for your mother’s death?”

“My father testified at the Draedon Council that I was. That’s the American version of your Wizengamot Panel. He told them that I hadn’t blacked out at all; that I simply went into some sort of trance, and struck down my mother with a Killing Curse.”

Snape was sure Lisa knew full well she hadn’t killed her mother. “What do you think happened?”

“I think my father killed her and laid the blame on me,” she answered simply.

“Why didn’t he kill you as well, then? Was he that sure that he wouldn’t be found out?”

“I don’t know what was going through his mind. I’m sure that all the answers can be found in that effigy. I just don’t know how to divine its secrets. That’s what I’ve been searching for in all my reading. That’s what I’ve been trying to learn from Lucius.”

“Has he been any help to you?”

“No, but he seems to be willing to do some research of his own. He claims he wants to protect me from finding the answers in the wrong books...the more dangerous books. He told me that since he understood the dangers better than I, that he would look into some books that he had and let me know what he learns.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes, at least as far as that goes.”

“What is it that you don’t trust about him, specifically?”

“He’s getting quite pushy about his...other interest...in me. You were right about him, Severus. Ever since that last revel, he’s been pushing for something more from me.”

“There was a time, not long ago, that I thought you were entertaining the idea of having an affair with him.”

“I was teasing you. As attractive as I think Lucius is, I’m not entirely sure we’d ever have anything other than an unsatisfying, sordid shack-up.”

“Narcissa thinks you’re already involved with her husband.”

“Don’t worry, Severus,” she said. “I can sense her coming from a mile away. She can’t control her angry aura. And I’ve no doubt that Lucius doesn’t wish to be around when she blows, either.”

He decided he’d better change the subject before he began to sound like a jealous lover. “How did your father die, Lisa?”

“The Muggle medical examiner put it down as a heart attack. A myocardial infarction. But it was understood among the wizarding folk that it was a curse of some kind.”

He thought about all the information she’d given him tonight. It explained so much. But it didn’t explain the most important thing.

“Lisa, if you know you didn’t kill your mother, then what is it that eats away at you? Why do you insist on getting involved with Lord Voldemort?”

“I killed my father.”


	11. Still the Need for Atonement

Chapter Eleven  
Still the Need for Atonement

Snape’s mind reeled with her words. He stood up, pacing as he sifted through all she’d told him, trying to understand it. How could she have killed her father? She’d been away at school, and by her own admission, had not seen him since her custodial hearing.

Stopping abruptly, he looked at her. “Lisa, has everything you told me been the truth? You’ve not exaggerated anything?”

“Yes, it’s the truth, and no, I haven’t exaggerated.”

“How did you kill him, then? How was it possible?”

She looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap. “I created a potion in school that would attack his circulatory system. A slow-acting poison. I knew he was reclusive...I’d been keeping tabs on him whenever I could. I knew people that knew him. Knew he never had visitors in... So I went over there one night and poured the potion into his well. Then I went back to school and waited. Checking Muggle news...looking for his obituary...listening to gossip...Shortly after the school year ended, the lawyers contacted me. He was dead.”

“Clearly, you’ve come to regret having done it?”

“Yes, but not for the reason you think. It’s more that I’d gotten away with it. No one knew what I’d done, and I kept waiting for some form of justice to catch up with me. I never really believed that anything happened without consequences. I began to wish I hadn’t done it, not because I was sorry to have killed him, but because I felt more guilty about it since I’d gotten away with it. It was getting unbearable.”

He sat on the sofa, staring into the flames in the fireplace as his mind dealt with what she’d said. Everything she’d said.

He heard her rise and come to stand behind him. Her hands came to his shoulders, massaging, and he felt her uncertainty. He brought his hand up to one of hers, wanting her to know that he wasn’t judging her; who was he to judge, after all? What had she done that he hadn’t? He’d killed before. Wasn’t that why he had chosen to spy for the Order? What was she doing that was so different?

_No!_ his mind rebelled. There was no reason for her to follow the path that he’d taken. If he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t have chosen to continue service to Voldemort for the sake of the Order.

Would he?

He tugged on her arm until she came around the side of the sofa, then he pulled her down beside him, holding her close and resting his chin on her soft curls. “Lisa,” he murmured softly. “You only have to forgive yourself. No one else can pardon you. No one else has that power. You won’t find your forgiveness in Voldemort’s service, nor in the Order. Albus can’t help you do this; I can’t, and neither can Lucius Malfoy. _You_ have to do this. You could spend the rest of your life in Azkaban, and still, it all boils down to that.”

“That’s why I’m doing all this, Severus,” she answered, her voice muffled against his chest. “If I can do something to put a stopper in what Voldemort’s trying to do, I will have given something back; I will have atoned in some way for what I’ve done.”

“I fear that, too late, you’ll find it’s not enough. For each victory you allow the Order, you’ll feel that you still owe the world something. You’ll keep going. By the time you feel you’ve atoned, you’ll be in too deep for removal. Voldemort will have degraded you to the point you’ll wish for death, or he will already have killed you, and with much more pain than your father suffered.”

“It’s more than my culpability in my father’s death, Severus,” she said. “It’s how much I _wanted_ it. It’s the intention, more than the action, that puts me in this position. I saw a part of me that frightened me. I saw a stranger looking at me every time I looked into a mirror.”

He tightened his hold on her, trying to still the trembling. He still had questions, but wasn’t sure if this was the time to continue. She must have sensed as much in his touch, because she sat up, looking at him.

“Go ahead and ask, Severus.”

Slightly flattered that she could know him and his nuances so well, he voiced his thoughts. “You’ve admitted that you killed him; what are you still searching for in the Dark Arts?”

“I don’t know the full story. There are still those holes in my memory. I was aware that I must have been skilled in Occlumency before the first time we’d learned about it in school, so obviously I had been using it since childhood. Who taught me that, if not for my parents? And why would they feel the need to teach me something that is normally for higher-level students? I shouldn’t have learned about it until high school.”

“Good point, I suppose.”

“And no one seems to know anything about this ability to infiltrate someone else’s dreams. How do I know that’s not something only Dark Wizards do? I just can’t find any information about it. What purpose would something like that serve? It’s such a violation of privacy; it just feels like something no decent witch or wizard would do. I feel like I’m such a stranger to myself, Severus.”

He had a worrying thought. “Lisa, have you mentioned to Malfoy about this dream ability you have?”

“Not yet.”

“You plan to?”

“It depends on how helpful he is about the effigy. It could be that he’s the only one who would be able to find those answers for me.”

“Have you thought about what he’d do with that information? About how Voldemort might want you to use those skills?”

“I know we agreed that none of the Death Eaters nor Voldemort should know about that. I haven’t forgotten. But sometimes I feel so desperate for the answers that I’m afraid that in a moment of blind faith, or weakness, I would be tempted to ask Lucius about it. He’s so sincere when he tells me he can help me.”

He’d requested a meeting with the Dark Lord to introduce Lisa because of his fear that she’d ask Malfoy to do it instead. Now, he knew that he’d better do what he could for her before she could go to Malfoy about this.

He turned to face her fully, looking intensely into her eyes. He could see she was tired; this baring of her soul had taken a lot out of her. Still, he didn’t feel he could put it off. She didn’t always tell him ahead of time of her plans to see Malfoy, and this had to be done before it was too late.

“Lisa, I will help you find the answers you seek. We’ll look for them together. Just promise me that you come to me with your questions; give me a chance to search for them before even entertaining the idea of going to Malfoy. Will you do that?”

She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck. He had to struggle to hear her words.

“Thank you, Severus,” she mumbled. “I promise; I’ll come to you with everything. I was afraid you’d turn away from me when I told you all this.”

“Never.” He felt his heart wrench at feeling the wetness of her tears against his neck. Not long ago, he would have sworn that she didn’t have it in her to cry. He held her, letting her take all the time she needed to cry it out. It was the first time he could remember that someone’s tears didn’t bother him.

Too soon, she lifted herself away from him, sheepishly dashing the tears from her face, then chiding herself as she touched his neck, wiping away the evidence of her emotions there. He cupped her face in his hands, threading his fingers through her hair, fingering the dangling earrings at her lobes.

She was looking deeply into his eyes, and he met her stare, gazing into the mysterious depths. Her eyes were a deep green tonight, slightly glassy from her tears. He moved his thumb over the softness of her lower lip. She moved nearer, inviting him to take possession of her lips. He’d often wondered if she’d ever considered staying the night with him, without the hovering presence of Lord Voldemort. Simply because she wanted to.

As she sucked lightly at his tongue, he knew this was the night he would find out.

 

Snape read once again the preface to the spell he’d found in the book he’d always kept hidden in his private library. He had on hand all the ingredients to make this potion; he was familiar with the wand movements that would bring it to its power. The dangers were negligent, considering the wealth of information he might glean from the effigy. But it would be a time-consuming process; how much time did he have before someone came looking for him? It wasn’t a process that could be interrupted, once he started.

He made the rounds of the castle, making sure to pass by Dumbledore in the corridor. Nothing. He felt it was safe to assume the headmaster wouldn’t be needing his presence for anything more tonight. It was Hooch’s turn for patrol duty. He expected no one to come knocking on his dungeon room doors for the rest of the night. He and Lisa had made no plans to meet tonight. So, what was holding him back? What made him hesitate to create this potion and address the mysteries of the effigy?

He’d already decided he wouldn’t chance evoking the magic of this spell right here in the castle. Dumbledore would, no doubt, have his own way of knowing such a thing was happening right under his nose. And Snape could think of no excuses he could give the headmaster to prevent having to explain everything Lisa had told him. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was loath to see any sign of disappointment and mistrust directed at him from the old wizard’s eyes. If he found out what Severus was up to, would he naturally assume the Death Eater/spy had been practicing Dark Magic all along?

It was Friday evening, with no classes or meetings scheduled over the weekend. It would have to be tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. Otherwise, he’d have to wait an entire week before trying this foolhardy attempt to satisfy Lisa’s unrelenting pursuit of her personal history. He didn’t believe she’d be able to avoid going to Malfoy for long. She was truly obsessed.

He returned to his rooms, gathering everything he’d need and reducing them to fit into the pockets of his robes. Using his hidden door to escape the castle and head to the Forbidden Forest, he kept looking over his shoulder, hoping his leaving would go undetected. He had no answers prepared if anyone should question his errand.

He Disapparated, arriving directly into the sitting room of his family home. It had the stale, disused air of an abandoned building, and he reproved himself for neglecting it so. He may one day find a need for it; it was that possibility that had prevented him from selling it years ago.

He headed toward the door that led to the basement, lighting his way with his wand. Having to force open the door, using all his weight to shove against it, he realized that no one had been through it for at least twenty-five years. He waved his wand at the walls, and bright light hissed forth from the lanterns lining the room.

Using another charm to clear away years of accumulated dust, he set to work, reversing the reducing spell on his ingredients, his cauldron, and other supplies. The last thing he took from his pocket and put on the table was the book. The book that he’d hoped Lisa had not found in all her searching. It was this book, only one of many, that would close the doors of safety behind her. One could not delve into this book without leaving a part of oneself behind. Sometimes the gap it left in the reader’s psyche could never be filled again. The effect was comparable to a Muggle’s idea of a zombie.

He lost track of time as he began dicing, grinding, stirring...all the while, carefully reading through the instructions in the book. The years melted away in his mind, and by the time the heavy oppressiveness of the air around him began closing in, he’d forgotten that he no longer practiced the Dark Arts.

 

He returned to Hogwarts the following morning, shortly before lunch was served in the Great Hall. Taking his seat, he glanced around at his fellow staff members, looking for Lisa and not finding her. Inwardly groaning, he hoped it meant she wasn’t hungry, and not that she was again keeping company with Malfoy.

He waved away the food that had appeared before him, sipped at his coffee, and wondered how long he’d have to wait for her return. He wanted to question her further about the last night she’d seen her mother and to tell her what he’d learned from the effigy. It was disturbing news, at least as far as Snape could understand it, and he began to worry that Malfoy somehow already knew at least some of what Snape had learned during the night. If that was the case, Lisa was already in more danger at Malfoy’s hands than either of them had imagined.

Upon leaving the Great Hall, he paced the corridor that looked out over the front grounds of Hogwarts so he wouldn’t miss Lisa’s homecoming. He went over the details of last night in his mind, hoping Lisa would be able to supply the missing pieces of the puzzle. He reached the end of the corridor, pivoting sharply to retrace his steps, and almost tripped over Lisa.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, helping her back to her feet.

“Where am I supposed to be?” she asked saucily. “What has you pacing?”

“I didn’t see you come back to the castle. Have you found another way in?”

“I hadn’t gone anywhere. _Is_ there another way in?”

“Never mind that, I must speak to you. It’s rather urgent. Follow me.”

She kept her questions to herself as she scrambled to keep pace with him, and he was glad. There were a few students lurking about, those who hadn’t anything better to do than to pry their noses into the affairs of others.

She was out of breath by the time they’d entered his rooms and he’d warded the door behind them. “Severus, what’s wrong?”

He pulled the effigy out of his robes. Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked up to him. “I thought you’d gotten rid of it,” she said quietly.

“I was able to conjure a potion that enabled me to weave a spell over it. It provided a history. The effigy was not of your mother,” he assured her. “Your father was not plotting against her, as far as I can tell.”

She backed away from him, her eyes unfocused. She turned away, standing behind the couch and resting her hands on the back of it. After a long moment, she glanced up at him. “Does that mean...could you see...Severus, _did_ I kill my mother?”


	12. Downward Spiral

Chapter Twelve  
Downward Spiral

“No, Lisa. Not from what I could see.”

“What, exactly, did you see? And how does that work? What magic did you find that caused the effigy to show you these things?”

“I found a spell and a potion in one of my books. One of _those_ books. After dousing the effigy in the potion and chanting the spell over it, everything was there for me to see.”

“Could you show it to me?”

“It wouldn’t do any good, unless you’re more well-read than even I suspect. It isn’t like reading a book; you have to look at the effigy and interpret what shows up. Some things are very subtle, and could be read improperly.” He handed her the effigy, wondering if she’d see any of what he saw. Just how much about Dark Magic had she already learned?

She turned it over, studying it, not seeming to see anything different about it. Snape let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

“Sort of like reading tea leaves?” she asked.

“No, that nonsense can look different to anyone looking into the teacup. The signs showing up on the charmed effigy will look the same to any Dark Wizard reading them as long as he knows what he’s looking at.”

“And what did you see, Severus?”

He sat heavily on the sofa, taking her hand to urge her to sit beside him. “When your father acquired that thing,” he said, gesturing to the effigy, “he was frail; he was already dying. I saw him placing the spells on the effigy that would identify it with whomever his target was. He barely had the strength to do it.”

“You’re implying that he was already ill from the water I’d poisoned, aren’t you?”

“It’s possible.”

“So, the effigy is me? He knew I had poisoned the water?”

“I think he suspected it was Nott who had cursed him.”

“Who?”

“Nott. He’s the missing Death Eater Albus mentioned at the last Order meeting. The one who’d been trying to get past the security at the Ministry. He’s been in hiding for quite some time now, and hadn’t been at the last few Dark Revels. Your father apparently knew him.”

“So, that’s proof that my father was involved in the Dark Arts, right?”

“Not because he was acquainted with Nott. Many are, Dark Wizard or not. But the fact that your father knew about effigies and how to empower them...that’s Dark Magic.”

“I wish I could remember beyond those blank spots in my memory. I know it was my mother who taught me Occlumency. She probably thought it would protect me from my father.”

He stared at her. She didn’t seem to realize what she’d just said.

“Lisa, why would your mother think you needed protection from your father?”

“Because she needed protection. It stands to reason that...” She looked at him, confused.

“That what?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Your mother teaching you Occlumency...that was something you’d forgotten?”

She rubbed at her temples, concentrating. “I was in my last year of high school when I had begun taking Occlumency lessons at school. I caught on immediately, and I knew I’d done it so many times before. But I couldn’t remember when. So, yes, it was one of the things I’d forgotten because of that skull fracture.”

“Lisa, I don’t believe it was a skull fracture that caused you to forget some things.”

She looked at him, waiting for him to go on. He saw understanding dawn in her eyes just as he opened his mouth to continue. He stopped, waiting for her to speak. “A Memory Charm. It wasn’t amnesia at all, was it?”

“Could your father have Obliviated your memories because perhaps you witnessed your mother’s murder? How sure are you that your father was the one that killed her?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You might, in time. The fact that you remembered your mother having taught you Occlumency proves that it’s possible to regain your memories.”

“But how do I make it happen?”

“I’m not sure you’d be doing any good trying to force it. That memory of your Occlumency lessons seemed to come from nowhere. You hadn’t been trying to remember; it just happened.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a way to push it? Isn’t there something I can do?”

“Why the rush? It would be much better if it happens naturally.”

“I have to know what happened that night. Who did the effigy represent, Severus?”

“What difference does it make? At least it wasn’t you.”

“It was Nott, wasn’t it?” He nodded silently.

“What was his connection to my father? Why did my father want him in effigy? What if it was Nott who killed my mother? Maybe that’s why my father wanted to kill him.”

Snape felt the gnawing of the rodent of dread in his stomach. “Lisa, if Nott was there when your mother was murdered...if, indeed, he’s the one who’d wiped out your memory of that event...Lisa, if he knows who you are, then we must assume that Lucius also knows all about it. The two are, or were, as thick as thieves. And then it follows that the Dark Lord knows about it as well.”

“Then why wasn’t I dealt with already? Wouldn’t Voldemort have killed me, or at least have tried to find out what I remembered? I don’t think he knows.”

“He could be lulling us into a false sense of security. It would be more his style to stage some sort of grand execution.”

“But all this about his wanting to watch us...I mean, his portrait-viewing thing...why would he bother, if he had my execution to think about?”

“I don’t pretend to know how his mind works, Lisa. I do believe, however, that we should be more than worried. We can’t go back to that room. We can’t answer any further summons from him. And you can’t have anything more to do with Malfoy.”

“And just suddenly bringing everything to a halt...won’t that precipitate immediate action on his part? He’ll know that we’ve figured it out. What then? And how would you avoid his summons? You told me yourself that the pain of the mark keeps increasing in intensity until you appear before him.”

Snape got to his feet, pacing around the room, trying to organize all the chaos in his mind. The effigy represented Nott. Therefore, Lisa’s father was at least adept enough in Dark Magic that his skills allowed that much. Nott was still alive, according to all accounts. So Carus either hadn’t had the time to actually use the effigy, or his skills just hadn’t been up to it. Take into account his rapidly failing health, and it would have meant a small miracle if Nott _had_ been killed.

Though Carus’ interests had been centered around illegal magic, Severus had never met the wizard. He’d never been among the Dark Lord’s followers. Going through long-forgotten faces and names in his memory, he couldn’t remember having met any American Death Eaters, so chances were that it was distance, or lack of awareness, that limited the circle of his followers. He wondered what Lord Voldemort’s American counterpart might be like. And if Carus had been a faithful servant to such a wizard there.

Lisa’s mother had felt the need to teach Lisa Occlumency, in hopes that it would protect her from her father. To prevent Carus from dragging Lisa into his dark world? To allow Lisa to keep her mother’s secrets? What, exactly, was Lisa being protected _from_?

Why was her mother ultimately killed? By whom? And what role did Carus have in mind for Lisa to play? A convenient scapegoat? A corroborating witness? What was Nott to Carus? Mentor? Friend? Enemy? An enemy in the end, evidently. And was it the poisoned water that had killed Carus? The effigy had revealed more questions than answers, he realized.

Lisa had such a strong need to be punished for killing her father. Had she told him everything? Had she a motive she kept hidden from him? She was willing to sell her soul to the Dark Lord, and by extension, to Dumbledore. Just how great was her perceived crime?

He looked over to her, where she was still sitting on the sofa, and was startled to see the whiteness of her face, the traces of tears on her cheeks. He moved to her side, softly wiping away her tears with the back of his hand. She looked into his eyes, and he felt as if he were looking into the eternal depths of a misery he couldn’t take from her.

“Can I presume that you see the need to back out of this plan to irrevocably become part of the Dark Lord’s congregation?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” she asked sadly. “There’s no other place for me, Severus. This had been foretold. The last words my father ever said to me predicted all of this. I didn’t understand all he said at the time, but now I do.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Severus knew she’d never find peace.

“And now I’ve realized that I may have killed an innocent man.”

She’d been difficult to understand after those words. She had begun to ramble incomprehensibly and he was aware that she wasn’t fully with him. She’d taken her mind back to the memories of her father, and he realized that at least some of those memories would have been good ones. This could only add to her guilt, and he feared for her sanity.

She’d left his rooms then, and when he would have followed her, he’d been stopped by the burning pain of the mark on his left arm.

It was too soon; he couldn’t answer the summons, not having planned with Lisa how they would deal with the voyeur situation. Why else would the summons come now, in the middle of the day? So soon after the last Dark Revel?

He ignored the pain, afraid to leave Lisa alone. It wouldn’t have surprised him to find her up in one of the incredibly high towers of the castle, with the intent of throwing herself off. He almost ran to her rooms, hoping she’d not done anything reckless, such as leaving to find Malfoy.

He found her in her room, and he pushed his way inside, not giving her a chance to turn him away. He realized that she wanted to be alone to think about all he’d told her, but it was that very solitude he wanted her to avoid. She would, no doubt, come to the wrong solution for her problems.

She looked up at him, calm now, but the pain still showing in her eyes.

“What, exactly, did your father say to you? What did he predict?”

She sighed, sitting on the sofa and pulling her legs up before her. “He told me that one day I would understand everything that had happened. That I would know that he’d acted in the only way he knew how, and that my mother would have forgiven him. That one day I’d find myself faced with a situation where there was only one way to go; it would be the wrong way, but the right way wouldn’t be an option for me. I suppose he knew that I was destined to enter into the world of Dark Magic.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that he could have meant something else?”

“What else could he have meant?”

“I want to remind you that there is so much that we don’t know yet. Until we do, you can’t make a decision such as joining forces with Lord Voldemort.

“If I understand correctly,” he continued, “your father couldn’t have known that you would poison his water supply. What if that was the situation your father had been referring to? Suppose he meant that the right way wouldn’t be an option to you because he knew you’d believe that he had killed your mother?”

“How could he have referred to the poison if he hadn’t known I would do that?”

“Perhaps he knew that, because he had accused you of murder, you would seek your revenge? It would be so much easier to expect that than to expect you to consider delving into the Dark Arts, wouldn’t it?”

“No. I think he expected me to follow his lead there. He used to teach me about Dark Magic.”

“Is that what your mother wanted to protect you from?”

“I think so. But she started when I was too young to really understand what was going on. By the time I could begin to know about the trouble between my parents, it never occurred to me to question it. It had already become routine. Besides, I don’t see how Occlumency could prevent my father from pulling me into his schemes.”

They were getting nowhere. All the debating in the world wasn’t going to change her mind about accepting that Dark Mark. He felt powerless to save her from herself. A feeling of impotency was creating a bud of anger inside him, and he knew if they couldn’t find a better solution soon, that bud would grow into a seething flame of rage. Rage that would render him even more powerless because it would be too late to do anything about it. She will have joined the Death Eaters by then.

Seeing she was calmer than she’d been downstairs, he left her, his mind going over what he must do next.


	13. Why Can't She Just Stay Put?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new term used in this chapter:
> 
> Procella--A storm, tempest; to come upon in waves.

Chapter Thirteen  
Why Can’t She Just Stay Put?

“Am I to understand that, not only had you done nothing to stop her from practicing the Dark Arts, but you’ve been doing the same thing?” There was nothing in the tone of the headmaster’s voice to give Snape any inkling as to what he planned to do about Snape’s admission.

“No, Headmaster,” he answered. “She has not been practicing at all. Her interests are with theory and history only. She’s done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, have recently used a Dark Spell, as well as a Dark Potion, to uncover the secrets of an effigy. I determined that it was necessary, as these secrets were driving Miss Carus to seek answers in places like the Malfoy Mansion, Knockturn Alley, and would eventually have driven her to the Dark Lord’s services.”

Albus said nothing, turning to look at nothing, deep in thought. Snape crossed one ankle over another and began to fidget with his spats, wondering how long it would take the old wizard to come to the proper course of action. As Albus once more turned to look at him, Snape sat up properly and gave him his full attention.

“What else have you learned from the effigy?”

“Nothing but what I’ve told you,” Snape answered. “It didn’t, or couldn’t, show who murdered Lisa’s mother. It didn’t explain her father’s involvement with Nott, and it shed no light on Lisa’s involvement in either.”

“I believe we should get rid of it, then,” the old wizard decided. “There’s no telling what danger it could bring, having it lying about. Then, perhaps we can dig into whatever records there are about the late Mr. and Mrs. Carus. I think we’ll find wizard records will be much more accurate than anything the Muggles had recorded about it. Where’s Miss Carus now?”

“I left her in her rooms, Headmaster.”

“I don’t know what to think about your delving into Dark Magic, Severus,” he said. “To be aware of such a thing puts me in an awkward position.”

Snape sighed, at once hating the fact that he’d put Dumbledore in this position, and at the same time feeling exasperated with him for his waffling.

“Headmaster,” he said impatiently. “If it will make it any easier for you, I’ll turn myself in to the Ministry right now. Let them deal with it. I will testify, of course, that I only just now made you aware of any of it. Just promise me that you’ll stop Lisa from going through with your idea of her spying on Lord Voldemort. I won’t be able to do much from my cell in Azkaban.”

“I hope it never comes to that, Severus,” Albus answered. “I do understand why you did it. I’m not even entirely sure I disapprove. I like to think I can still use common sense, in spite of all these laws and policies we have that make thinking unnecessary.”

“Will you speak to Lisa, then?”

“Certainly. We’ll call off the whole thing. How will Voldemort react to that? What can we expect from him?”

“I plan to tell him that Lisa and I are no longer involved with each other; that it simply didn’t work out. It may be enough. However, I’m concerned about a point she’d made recently. She said the Dark Lord wouldn’t care if the two of us were seeing each other or not; he would still expect her to join his ranks. And she’s right; he will expect her to be branded.”

“And when she doesn’t agree? What has happened in the past when someone had changed his mind about it? Was there retaliation?”

“There haven’t been very many cases that I recall, Albus. A couple of young wizards had backed down just before the branding ceremonies; since they were of no importance to the grand scheme of things, nothing was done. I’m not entirely sure how the Dark Lord feels about Lisa’s value to him.”

“But why would she be considered important to him? She’d only been to one revel and one meeting outside of that, hadn’t she? Does he know about her talents?”

“No, Albus. But he was very eager to be in her company. He might try to persuade her to continue.”

“What are his plans for her, do you know?”

He had refrained from mentioning to Albus the extra-curricular activities he and Lisa had engaged in for Voldemort. Trying to keep at least that secret, he simply shrugged, willing Albus to ask no more questions.

“Well, I think I’ll just pop in on Miss Carus and see if I can talk her into a cup of tea. I’ll stop by your rooms afterward and let you know how it went.”

“Please be your most persuasive, Albus,” Snape said, not caring that his heart was on his sleeve. “She’s determined to do this because she’s trying to alleviate the guilt she feels about her father’s death. If she won’t promise to stop, see if she’ll at least delay any action until we can dig into her background a bit more.”

He put his hand lightly on his left arm, knowing it would only cause the mark to burn even more. “In the meantime, I have to take this call. I’ll hint around to him that Lisa is no longer interested, and see what happens.”

 

Severus entered his dungeon rooms from the secret door at the back of the castle. He sat at the table in his kitchenette, blindly groping in the cabinet behind him for whatever bottle he could lay his hands on. Be it Ogden’s Old or hemlock, he needed a drink.

He’d let Lord Voldemort know that he and Lisa were no longer an item. Wondering if the perverted wizard would suggest that Lisa simply return to the portrait-room with some other wizard, he began to regret this plan of action. But the Dark Lord gave no hint as to what he wanted to do about this unpleasant and unexpected twist. It had been subtle, but Snape could see he was disappointed.

He’d clearly been looking forward to Snape’s and Lisa’s next tryst. With all that having to be put to Lord Voldemort, he decided to wait until a later time to inform him that Lisa wouldn’t be joining his ranks. That last piece of information might well have pushed his luck too far, and he really wasn’t in the mood for a Cruciatus tonight.

He’d had another moment of dread when Lord Voldemort questioned him about his tardiness in answering the special summons. He’d managed to convince him that Dumbledore had purposely kept him from answering, and let it slip to the Dark Lord that he feared the headmaster was suspicious of his seeming need to get away immediately. He relaxed when the older wizard made a few suggestions as to how to keep the old headmaster from guessing that Snape was loyal to the Dark Side.

Hoping that he and Lisa truly were off the hook, he’d Disapparated to the Forbidden Forest, intent on finding Lisa and Albus. She need not be troubled about this Death Eater foolishness any longer, and he wanted to know what the next step was in searching for the answers to Lisa’s questions. But now that he’d come home, he was reluctant to leave the emptiness of his rooms.

He was spared having to talk himself into leaving the quiet of his rooms in search of Lisa, because, with a flash, Albus’ head appeared in Snape’s fireplace. “Ah, Severus...you’re back.” The headmaster came fully into the sitting room as Snape left his kitchenette to meet him.

“How did your meeting go with Lisa?” Severus asked.

“Well, I regret to say that Miss Carus seems to have very little faith in me,” Albus answered ruefully. “Because I had no answers for her as of yet, I feel she’s not quite willing to wait until we can search America’s wizard records for information. By the way, Severus, you neglected to tell me of her friendship with Lucius Malfoy. What’s going on there?”

“Malfoy? What did she say about it?”

“Only that she was on her way to see him. She escaped me before I could question her about it. Elusive young thing, isn’t she?”

“One can only hope so,” he answered bitterly. “Going off to see Malfoy, at this point, is almost the same as going off to see Lord Voldemort.”

“She’s not looking for anything more than answers, is she?”

“I don’t know how to answer that, Albus. She’s almost as secretive as Malfoy himself.”

Albus left Snape’s rooms, leaving the worried wizard to pace the floor alone. Aside from showing up at the Manor, where Lucius and Lisa may or may not be, and alerting Narcissa that he was worried about Lisa, he didn’t know where to look for her. He had no choice but to await her return, and waiting had never been his strong point.

He reached for the Ogden’s he’d left on the table and began to drink straight from the bottle.

 

“Where the hell have you been!” he stormed as soon as she was within shouting distance. He’d glimpsed a flash of white as she hurried to the castle from the Forbidden Forest. It was the shirt she wore under her robes, which were over her shoulders, but not buttoned up.

She didn’t answer him, but instead headed for the stairs that would take her to her rooms. He’d left the balcony corridor and moved to head her off, catching her just before she reached the portrait of Lady Withers. The old bat was watching and listening; she was almost drooling. He was too drunk to care.

He grabbed her before she could get through the door, spinning her around and slamming her against the wall. “While I’m risking who knows what with the Dark Lord, trying to take you out of harm’s way, while Dumbledore is trying to figure out how to search another country’s archives for information for you, you’re out gallivanting around with a married man who’s as much a danger to you as Lord Voldemort! What the hell was going through your mind?”

Her face was white, and she looked near tears. He felt a moment of contrition; he didn’t know he’d used so much force. But the whisky and worry spurred him on, and he paced the corridor before her, ranting and raving. He turned eventually, to look back at her, to see if she was listening. She wasn’t there.

Enraged, he stormed through the door, slamming it hard enough into the wall that it bounced back and shut behind him. Not seeing her in the sitting room, he glanced toward her bedroom. He walked through, pausing at the doorway. She was sitting on her bed, back against the headboard, head resting on her raised knees. He waved his wand at the lamp on the wall, softly lighting the room.

“Lisa, why did you go to Malfoy tonight? Did you forget what he might already know? You were probably lucky to get back here!”

She looked up at him, and he could see she was trembling. Something had happened tonight, and he realized that shouting at her would not induce her to answer his questions. He lurched toward her, falling across the bed at her feet.

 

He awoke in the morning, his head heavy and his mouth woolly. Confused at the unfamiliar ceiling above him, he remembered that he was in Lisa’s room. He turned to his side, finding the rest of the bed empty. Realizing she must have undressed him and put him to bed, he wondered where she was now.

Forcing himself to leave the comfort of her bed, he threw on his robe and headed out of the room. The bathroom and kitchen were both empty. Seeing the sun rising outside the window, he guessed she went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He showered, dressed, and headed for his rooms, grateful that his first class didn’t meet until ten o’clock. Not entirely sure how he got there, he passed by her History classroom, surprised to see Binns leaving it. “Good morning, Binns. Is everything all right?”

“I’m not sure, Snape. It seems my apprentice isn’t feeling well this morning. She asked me to take her class. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“I’m heading upstairs; I’ll stop in at the infirmary and check on her.”

“Thank you, my boy. Let me know if I need to take this class tomorrow.”

He hazily remembered how aggressively he’d treated her when she came in last night, and with his heart in his throat, he took the stairs two at a time, already hating himself. Upon reaching the hospital wing, he threw open the door, frantically looking through the ward. Only one bed was occupied, and it wasn’t Lisa. He went into Poppy’s office.

“Where’s Lisa?”

“Lisa?”

“Lisa Carus, woman! Where is she?”

“Not here. She hasn’t been in. Ever. If she’s ill, no one told me about it. What happened?”

“I’m not sure.” He turned around and impatiently waited for the stairs to line up so he could go to her rooms downstairs. Lady Withers smugly told him that she hadn’t seen Lisa since last night.

“Where the hell did she go?”

“You can’t ask any nicer than that?”

All his patience gone, what there had been to begin with, he drew his wand and shouted, “Procella!” As the old bat gave out a scream and began to convulse slightly, he turned his back on her and went into Lisa’s rooms. He saw that her cloak was still there, as well as the robes she’d been wearing last night. Chances of her still being in the castle were good. He turned and left the rooms, planning to start at the top of the castle and work his way down.

It didn’t take long to find her, considering the size of the castle. She was sitting up in the Astronomy Tower, arms wrapped around her legs, leaning against the tower wall. She was awake, but staring at something not in this world.

He moved nearer, crouching in front of her, carefully pushing her hair away from her eyes. She slowly moved her eyes to look at him, and after a few seconds, he could see that she was aware of him. He rubbed her arms, noticing how cold she was. Had she been up here all night?

“Lisa, are you all right? I remember last night...did I hurt you? The wall...I seem to remember...Lisa?”

She hitched in a deep breath, and let it out, shaking. Reaching down, she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt. He could see where the blood had seeped through the bandages. At his uncomprehending look, she began to speak, but had to clear her throat and try again.

“It’s the Dark Mark. I’m a Death Eater now.”


	14. Dark Mark, White Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfamiliar terms used in this chapter:
> 
> Adficio (also Adficius Curse)--To sap, to weaken.  
> Discerpo--To differ.  
> Transfero Severus--To transfer to Severus.

Chapter Fourteen  
Dark Mark, White Soul

Severus fell to his ass on the hard concrete floor of the Tower. His head spinning, he forced his eyes to remain open, looking at the bandages on her arm. He shot his eyes up to hers, seeing the misery in their green depths, wondering what had possessed her. He’d thought her worries were over. They had a plan. He had paved the way for the Dark Lord to give up on her. Albus was going to use his connections in the States to dig out the information she’d been searching for.

Why had she gone out last night?

“Tell me what happened after I passed out, Lisa.”

“I went into the kitchenette to put a kettle on. There was that noise from the fireplace; I thought it was Albus, checking up on me. It was Lucius.”

“How did he get in your rooms?”

“Somehow, he’d put my fireplace on his Floo-network. I don’t know how. He wanted me to come to his house; he said he’d found what I was looking for. I didn’t know how to refuse without alerting him that things were changing. He said he understood that you and I weren’t seeing each other. Why does he think that?”

“It’s what I told the Dark Lord last night, while Albus was talking to you. And look how quickly the news got back to Malfoy. It’s just as I suspected, Lisa. The whole thing was a set-up.”

“Which means you’re in danger. They must know everything, Severus.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to leave Lord Voldemort in that event. I think this is just a case of Malfoy not wasting the chance to move in on you once I was out of the picture. Normally, that wouldn’t have stopped him anyway, but he must have been ordered to leave you alone because of what the Dark Lord wanted from us. Clearly, it wouldn’t have been the same if Lord Voldemort had asked you to carry on with Malfoy in my place.”

“I think that’s what Lucius had in mind. He was quite...forceful.”

“What did he do, Lisa? Did he hurt you? Did he force himself on you?”

“No. Not in the way you mean. He took me to another house, one I didn’t know. Voldemort was there, so I think maybe it was the house where that room is--the one with the portrait. But Voldemort didn’t seem impressed with Lucius. It’s because it was you he wanted to see in that room, not me. Lucius didn’t know about that.”

“How did you get the Dark Mark?”

“It was Lucius’ idea. I didn’t know how to refuse, since it was supposed to be what I wanted. Voldemort branded me; there was no ritual involved, other than my speaking the vows. Severus,” she added, taking his hand in hers, “I think now is the time to tell me what happens when you violate a magical contract. I need to know what to expect.”

He was sickened. To think of what she’d done, what risks she had insisted on taking, and she still thought he’d always be there for her? He’d done everything he could to take her out of harm’s path, just to turn around and see her jumping right back into it. It was more than he could take, especially with the hangover he was nursing.

He stood up, taking pleasure in frightening her with his next words. “Every time you go against your vows,” he said coldly, “it will be like sticking a piece of wire into a Muggle electrical outlet. The more serious the vow broken, the deeper and longer-lasting the pain. I should also warn you,” he continued mercilessly, “you are now the Dark Lord’s property. He will no longer ask you for your services. He will demand, and the more he wishes to test your loyalty, the more degrading and devastating your orders will be. You will finally have Lucius, no doubt, but that may be the only thing you have left to look forward to.”

He didn’t wait to see her reaction, but turned and left the Tower. She was no longer his worry.

 

The days dragged by, becoming weeks, months. Albus had gathered evidence that pointed toward the true cause of Carus’ death. Lisa’s father been hexed with the Adficius Curse; his life force had been slowly drained from him until he couldn’t find the strength to draw another breath. It hadn’t been poisoned water at all. Lisa had been branded with the Dark Mark for nothing.

Snape worried about Dumbledore; the headmaster seemed frail lately, and clearly it was the guilt and stress caused by Lisa’s impetuous actions. He supposed he should take his share of responsibility for some of it; after all, he’d given Albus no reason to think he couldn’t protect Lisa. And he had tried; there just had been no controlling her.

The students were preparing for the end of term exams. The fifth years were the most stressed-out group; more than a quarter of them had been admitted into Poppy’s care at one time or another, if for nothing more than a sedative potion. The seventh years were the quietest bunch; having been through major exams before, they knew what to expect, and their studying was more effective.

He’d be glad when they all left the castle for the summer holidays. He dreaded the inevitable summons to Lord Voldemort’s side, but other than that pesky annoyance, it should be a relaxing season. He probably should make plans to get away; it had been years since he’d gone anywhere, and the castle walls were beginning to close in on him.

Lisa had been keeping a low profile, knowing how he felt about her. He was glad; it saved him the trouble of avoiding her. All in all, there was a kind of peace settling over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was time, of course, for the first hint of tingling and rawness to begin irritating his Dark Mark.

 

He looked around the dimly lit field that was playing host to the Revel. He’d already paid his respects to Lord Voldemort, and had taken his customary place in the circle. He looked across the space in the middle, noticing that Malfoy hadn’t shown up yet. Now that Lisa had been branded, that branding having been witnessed only by Lord Voldemort and Malfoy, he wondered if she would now stand next to Malfoy instead of him. The less he had to be aware of her presence, the better he’d feel.

Turning at the sound of someone Apparating in, he saw Malfoy approaching, his mask uselessly dangling from his hand. He insolently approached the Dark Lord, kneeling before him pompously. Severus couldn’t hear the words that were said, but it wasn’t anything that put Malfoy in a bad mood. Clearly, Severus was now in disfavor while Malfoy was enjoying his new status as recruiter.

Another pop, and Lisa Apparated in, moving forward to kneel at the Dark Lord’s feet. Severus could see that he spoke to her, but again, he was too far away to hear what was said. Noticing that Lisa kept her eyes on the ground, he was reassured that at least some things were following normal tradition.

He was surprised as she headed his way, and he kept his eyes straight ahead, not acknowledging her as she took the spot next to him. Two or three arrivals later, the Dark Lord stood to make his opening speech.

“We welcome, once again, Lisa Carus, who is now fully with us. She took the Mark at our last meeting, and we can thank Lucius for bringing her here when Severus was inescapably detained by our enemies.”

Severus started. Inescapably detained? He’d been passed out, drunk! He shifted his eyes, trying to see Lisa’s face, but she was fully a step behind his line of vision. He glanced across to Malfoy, and saw the usual sneer on the blond wizard’s face. Ergo, it had been Lisa, not Malfoy, who had saved his hide. She had lied to Lord Voldemort. It was quite a risk, even with her Occlumency skills.

He turned his head to see her face. She glanced at him, but without changing expression, returned her gaze to the empty ground of the field before her.

He returned his eyes to the front, barely listening to Lord Voldemort’s words. In his quick look, he’d noticed the taut look to her face, her collarbones pronounced in the open neck of her robes. He wondered if she’d been bothering with meals lately. _She’s no longer my worry,_ he reminded himself.

The Dark Lord was now beckoning forward one of the circle, and Severus forced himself to concentrate. Nott! What was Nott doing here? Perhaps the Order had been correct in their information that it had been Nott who’d gotten past Ministry security. No one seemed to know what he’d been trying to do there, or if he’d succeeded, but it was enough to know he was around. Security had been tightened up, but investigations into what his mission had been were still underway.

“Nott has been successful in his latest efforts at the Ministry. Some of you already know of our new Floo-network. In less than two weeks, we’ll have managed to complete the process, and we’ll control transportation throughout the country.” He waved Nott back to his place in the circle.

That explained how Malfoy had managed to get into Lisa’s room that fateful night. And if the Dark Lord had believed Lisa, then Snape was probably not going to die tonight. He’d be able to report to the Order. He dimly wondered if, in the event of his execution, Lisa would have informed Albus of this new information.

He once again looked at her, and wondered if it was fear he saw. Focusing once again on the Dark Lord’s words, he strove to remember everything. Some of the Death Eaters were getting their orders; assignments that would push ahead the fight to overthrow the Ministry. His own task was easy enough; downplay the Ministry’s claims that their security had been breached at all. Convince at least Dumbledore that it was simply Fudge’s paranoia.

When at last they were allowed to relax and socialize, Severus hurriedly headed to the outskirts of the field before Malfoy could corner him, knowing that speaking to Lisa would then be impossible to avoid. He was just about to turn his wand on himself to Disapparate when he heard the Dark Lord call his name.

His heart thudding painfully in his chest, he turned and faced him. “Severus,” the Dark Wizard boomed, “off so soon? Why haven’t I seen you lately?”

“There seemed no point, my Lord,” he answered steadily. “There is no one to bring to your portrait-room.”

“No matter,” came the answer, unbelievingly. “I told you before, with or without Lisa, I welcome your company. That room can sit empty, unless you find further use for it. If Lisa takes up with Lucius, let them find somewhere else to meet.”

“I see,” he answered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going.

“I will be contacting you in a couple of weeks. Until then, Severus...”

“Yes, my Lord.” He bowed to touch his forehead to Voldemort’s hand, then he Disapparated. He Apparated to the Dark Forest, and wandered to the lake, planning to wait for Lisa to return from the night’s activities. It was only out of curiosity, he told himself. Just to see if she’d return here, or if she’d spend the night elsewhere.

It took another hour before he heard the popping noise of her Apparation. He stood, walking back toward the edge of the forest, and caught up with her as she entered the gates of Hogwarts. He fell into step beside her, and she looked up at him without saying anything, without breaking stride. He wondered what he could say to her now; what anyone could say to her now. They weren’t even halfway to the entrance doors when he couldn’t bear the silence anymore. He put his hand on her arm to stop her. She stood looking up at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Has Malfoy been bothering you?” She didn’t answer right away. “Lisa? What is it? What’s he done?”

“Nothing. He hasn’t been bothering me.”

He didn’t believe her; he knew she was holding back. Was it because she thought he hated her? He’d made it a point to make her believe it; he was sorry now that he did. He couldn’t look at her gaunt face without knowing that if she could still count on him, she wouldn’t be wasting away right now.

Was it guilt he was feeling for having abandoned her when she really needed him, or did he still care? They hadn’t had a normal relationship; perhaps there was no such thing. But he was hurting, and he knew it wasn’t just his ego that wanted her to miss him as well.

“I understand you made excuses for me that night I passed out, drunk, in your bed. Why did you do it?”

“Because I could. He asked me directly why you weren’t the one to bring me there. He totally ignored Lucius, so I had to answer him. I looked him right in the eye and answered him.”

“He wasn’t upset because I wasn’t there?”

“I’m not sure. He was upset, but it could have been that I had been so forward with him. I’m not supposed to speak to him or look at him yet, remember?”

“He was upset? How do you know he was...what did he do?”

“It’s history now, Severus. Let it go.”

“Lisa, what did he do?”

She stared at him, clearly not knowing if she should answer. Blowing out her breath finally, she sighed, “Cruciatus.”

That she had suffered such a painful curse because he’d been drunk and unable to fulfill his responsibilities...it was unforgivable. He was rooted to the spot, and she turned to continue her way to the castle.

“Lisa!” She stopped, head bowed, and he scrambled to catch up with her. He lifted her chin, and stared into her eyes, barely discernible in the dark. How many more secrets could those eyes hold? “Lisa, I’m sorry I was inebriated that night. If I hadn’t been, you wouldn’t have that Dark Mark right now.”

“I probably would, Severus. It was just a matter of time, that’s all.”

“And I’m sorry you felt the pain of the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus because you were protecting me. It should never have happened.”

“You know it would have happened eventually. He would have kept pushing until I failed some ridiculous test. I remember you telling me he would be looking for excuses to punish me. You have nothing to apologize for. I knew exactly what I was getting into. You’re not my protector, no matter what Albus thinks. Don’t let him put this on your shoulders.”

He reached up to touch her face, a jarring pain of regret shooting through him like a bolt of lightning when she pulled back instinctively. Did she fear his touch now? Or was it disgust because he’d failed her so miserably?

“Lisa, there must be a way out of this. If we work together, we can find it.”

She studied him silently for a few moments while he waited, willing her not to shut him out the way he’d shut himself out for the last few months. When at last she spoke, he had no answer.

“What changed your mind, Severus? I mean, why are you trying so hard? Just this morning, you wouldn’t have spit on me if I were on fire. What’s changed?”

“I don’t know, Lisa. Perhaps it was just seeing you there, among so many Dark wizards, knowing things would only get worse for you...seeing Malfoy’s smug face...I hate to think what plans he has for you. I just want you away from all that.”

She turned and continued to walk slowly toward the castle doors. As they approached, he took her arm gently and steered her away from the main entrance, toward the back grounds. She followed willingly enough, knowing they were going to his rooms. _Excellent,_ he thought. _She is willing to talk._

They entered his rooms from the secret back door, and he poured a whisky for each of them as she sat on the sofa before the fire. As he handed it to her, she frowned up at him. “Severus,” she said, “any chance Malfoy would have linked your fireplace to the new network?”

Every chance, he conceded mentally. He drew his wand and waved it at the fireplace. “Discerpo!”

“Won’t they wonder why you’ve severed your Floo connection with them?” she asked.

“Not for long, I imagine. I’m notorious for my inhospitality. They won’t think it unusual.”

“They can still get in through my fireplace,” she reminded him morosely. “If I disconnect, they’ll begin to suspect I’m not what I claim to be.”

“Did you pay attention to my wand movement?” At her nod, he continued. “The charm to use is ‘Transfero Severus’. That will reroute them here, where they’ll be denied entrance. It should do. If they question it, plead ignorance. They don’t know how skilled you really are.” He studied her carefully. “Do they?”

“I haven’t told them anything we agreed not to, Severus.” She sipped her drink.

He left the room, heading to hers. He charmed the fireplace himself, not trusting Lisa to do it before the next intrusion from Malfoy. Leaving the room, he contemplated the portrait of Lady Withers, who wisely kept silent. He decided not to harass her just now, but instead, placed his own wards on Lisa’s door.

He returned to his rooms, where Lisa still sat on the sofa, seemingly unaware he’d even left. “I’ve place wards on your door, Lisa. And I’ve disconnected you from the Dark Lord’s Floo network. It wouldn’t do to put these things off.” She nodded carelessly.

He sat next to her, wanting to brush her hair away from her face, yet afraid to see her flinch from his touch. She turned to face him more fully. “Did you have some sort of plan? Some magical spell that will take me out of this ditch I’ve created?”

“No, but one always plays to one’s strengths. And we haven’t tapped into all of yours. Tell me more about this dream invasion thing. How do you do it?”

“I wait for my target to fall asleep, and I watch his eyes. When they begin to move rapidly under his eyelids, I concentrate until I find myself in his dream. That’s pretty much all there is to it.”

“But is he aware it’s just a dream?”

“Only if he’s lucid. Most folks haven’t a clue. I’m just another part of their dreams.”

“Can you make things happen in the dream?”

“Yes, but so can the dreamer. It’s actually more dangerous to get into a lucid dream than any other. I have no control over what the dreamer does. Anything he wills, anything he thinks of will happen. I’m completely at his mercy. I might have a lot of fun, or I might be forced to defend myself.”

“Can you be killed in the dream?”

“I don’t know. I know the dreamer can be. There was once a man with a weak heart who was having a nightmare. He woke up because he was having a heart attack. He survived, but only because he was in the hospital at the time. He was hooked up to all sorts of Muggle instrumentation, and the nurses knew right away he was in trouble. They were able to save him, but it was because of that dream that it happened.”

“What were you doing in the hospital, with this dreamer?”

“I paid my way through college by assisting a research professor who ran the sleep disorder clinic near campus. He found out what I could do and put me to work. That dreamer came to the clinic because of nightmares he couldn’t stop, and he was worried about his heart. That incident I told you about wasn’t the first time it happened to him. He and his wife were getting very worried.”

“So, this is something Muggles know about, but not wizards? Perhaps it’s a Muggle sort of phenomenon, and not magical at all. That would explain why there are no documented cases of such things happening in the wizarding world.”

“It’s possible. You know as much as I know.”

“Have you ever been in danger, entering someone’s dream?”

“Oh, yes. There was a little boy at the clinic who kept having the same nightmare over and over again. He knew it was the same, but that’s all he could remember. It involved some sort of monster, and he was afraid to sleep. You wouldn’t believe the things he did to himself to try to stay awake.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“He started out drinking soft drinks filled with caffeine. When that didn’t work anymore, he simply began to eat coffee grounds by the spoonful, washing it down with tea. After a while, he stole a pack of cigarettes from his father and used them to burn holes into his skin. The pain kept him awake for a while.

“Then, his teacher saw the burns. There’s nothing else that can make a mark like that, so she alerted Children’s Services, who began investigating the situation, looking for child abuse. It was during that time that the mother heard a thump from the boy’s room one night, and when she went in there, she found that he’d been trying to stand on his head; one last-ditch effort to stay awake. She was afraid he’d break his neck. That’s when she found the clinic, and checked Timmy into it. Dr. Danford called me in. These dreams had to stop immediately, because he was only seven years old. The lost sleep was costing him his health, and very likely, his sanity.”

“You went into his dream?”

“Yes, once I explained to him what was going to happen. He didn’t want me to do it, because he was sure the monster would kill me. He said it was his monster and he didn’t want anyone else to be afraid to sleep because of him. He acted like it was his fault he was having the dreams.”

“How did this put you in danger?”

“Have you ever listened to a child’s imagination? That monster could have been anything, any invention of his mind. I was going in blind, because he couldn’t describe the monster, couldn’t even remember it. He could only remember it was the same each time.”

“So how did you handle that?”

“I met him in his dream. I explained that, in his dream, he had the power to do whatever he wanted to do. He could become invisible and hide from the monster. He could grow big enough to stomp on it, or small enough to escape detection. He could shoot bullets from his fingers, or even fly away. But the monster could only do what Timmy let him do.”

“It worked, I assume?”

“Not at first. When that monster made his appearance, Timmy was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t remember anything I told him.”

“Why didn’t you simply destroy the monster?”

“It would do no good. He’d still be afraid to sleep unless I was right there with him. He had to learn to fight his demons on his own.”

“What happened then?”

“I grabbed him and ran to another room. This...this thing...began chasing us, and I yelled at Timmy to become invisible and hide. It would give him time to plan his strategy.”

“How could he do that? How did he know how to do that?”

“It was his dream, Severus. All he had to do was focus. It worked, but by the time he was invisible, the monster had taken a swipe at me, and I began to bleed from the claw marks on my back. Timmy was invisible, but he began to scream, and the monster turned to him.”

“Don’t tell me the little boy was seriously injured!”

“No. He pulled himself up by his bootstraps, so to speak, and rescued me. He turned around and blasted the monster somehow, blowing him to bits. There was blood and gore all around us. That boy had quite a vivid imagination.” She smiled a little in memory.

“And when you awoke, or whatever it was you did, did you have those injuries?”

“Yes. They weren’t nearly as bad as Timmy had envisioned them, but still, I was all scratched up.”

“Just for curiosity’s sake, what was that monster?”

She grew pensive. He wondered if the monster had come back to haunt her own dreams. Then she looked at him, pain again evident in her expressive green eyes. “It looked kind of like a dinosaur, but it had a different sort of head on it. It reminded me of a horse, but it was really like nothing I’d ever seen before, in the Muggle world or our own. It wore glasses and a tie. It was a contorted version of Timmy’s father.”

“He had nightmares about his father?”

“Yes. Dr. Danford gave Children’s Services a modified report of their findings, and they eventually found that Timmy was indeed being abused. By his father.”

“What happened to Timmy next?”

“His mother divorced the father, and Timmy began therapy. That’s all I know.”

“So you were his savior, in a way.”

She grinned wryly; the most animated expression he’d seen on her face in a long time. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”

“How long had you worked for this doctor? How many people had you helped?”

“I never kept track. Quite a few. I was there for three years.”

“Atonement? Wasn’t it enough? You put yourself at risk, doing what you did. Yet, here you are, still trying to compensate for your perceived crime. Now you know that you were blameless for your parents’ deaths, and you’re still trying to pay for those crimes.”

“Not anymore, Severus. I’m tired. I’m exhausted, punishing myself. I...just want...out.”


	15. The Germ of an Idea

Chapter Fifteen  
The Germ of an Idea

They both jumped at the popping noise from the fireplace. Snape jumped up from the sofa, wand out, but it was Albus who climbed into the room, a confused look on his face. He looked around him, raising his eyebrows at the two of them.

“I thought I was heading for Lisa’s room,” he said. “I must really be getting old.”

Severus relaxed, putting away his wand. “No, Headmaster. You simply proved the charm on Lisa’s fireplace works. All her visitors will be transferred here, and those that aren’t wanted are denied entry.”

“Really? And who would be unwanted?”

“Forgive me, Headmaster,” he said. “We should have reported to you immediately.”

He poured a drink for Albus and handed it to him once he sat in the armchair across from the sofa. He paced, organizing the information he would now impart to Albus, who would relay it to the Order.

“Nott is alive and well, and is most assuredly the one who’d broken into the Ministry. He’d managed to infiltrate the Floo-network, and redesign it so that it is even now under the Dark Lord’s control. Malfoy had already managed to get into Lisa’s room, which is why I placed the transferring spell on her fireplace. I have a blocking charm on my own fireplace. Only Order members and other Hogwarts staff will be permitted entrance.

“I have been instructed to convince you that Fudge is wrong in his belief that Ministry security had been compromised. I expect to be summoned by Lord Voldemort again in the next couple of weeks. He plans to have completely redesigned the Floo-network by then.”

“We’ll get Harper and Weasley to begin dealing with this immediately,” Albus answered. “They’ll know how to stop this. They’ve done it before. No doubt Voldemort has corrected the bugs in his last plan, but we’ll be ready, I think. Any other news?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he answered.

Albus looked to Lisa, who had been quiet during Severus’ report, staring into the flames. She looked at him, shrugging. “There’s nothing I can add,” she said. “Other than that Severus and I are trying to work out a way to get us away from Voldemort’s service.”

Severus saw the surprised flash of pain in her eyes, and remembered how recently she’d taken her vows for the Dark Lord. Her reporting to Albus of her intention to attempt any act of disloyalty to her new lord would have caused a mild shock to course through her, but it would be much worse if she acted upon her intentions. It would take a hundred of those shocks to even come close to the Cruciatus, but it was still a nasty surprise when one wasn’t expecting it. He, himself, barely even noticed the mild shocks anymore. Then her words registered with him. Get _us_ away?

“Lisa, I think you misunderstood. I can’t leave his service...there is still so much to be done. We’re working on getting you out.”

“What do you think will happen to you after I’m gone, Severus? Will he be so forgiving when he realizes that you’ve brought in a traitor?”

She had a point.

“Let’s just concentrate on one thing at a time,” he said, finally. “You’re in danger both from the Dark Lord because you’re his latest toy, and Malfoy, who will stop at nothing to gain favor from Lord Voldemort. Or to make himself a bigger part of your life,” he added meaningfully.

“And what do you suppose Malfoy is up to?” asked Albus. “Other than his usual amorous pursuits?”

“I fear that, because Nott may be involved somehow in the death of Lisa’s father, Lucius may also be involved. It would then follow that Lord Voldemort was behind the whole thing. It would be so much easier to figure out if we knew why Lisa’s parents were killed.”

“And you remember nothing more than you already told me about?” Albus asked Lisa. She wasn’t paying attention, and he repeated the question.

She hesitated, then shook her head tiredly.

“Very well,” he said. “There is no more to be done tonight, except the report. I’ll contact those I must immediately. Thank you, Severus, Lisa. Again, I offer my most sincere regrets that this information can come to us no other way. And let’s all hope for an end to our darkest worries.”

He left, via the fireplace, and Severus looked to Lisa. She was practically asleep on his sofa. He sat next to her, and she lifted her eyes to his. _Such deep pools of despair,_ he thought. It wrenched his heart each time he looked at her. What had she done to deserve any of this?

He took the chance, lifting his fingers to brush her hair away from her eyes, a warm glow heating his chest when she allowed it. He traced a line down her cheek, her skin soft and warm beneath his calloused finger. She suddenly looked down, her right hand hovering just above her left arm, where the Dark Mark was hidden by her sleeve.

He took her arm in his hand, pushing up the sleeve, looking at the brand, which was already fading after the night’s summons. Looking back up at her, waiting until she met his eyes, he wrapped his hand around hers. “It’s not going to go away, Lisa. You must now find a way to accept it. It doesn’t make you someone you’re not.”

“I feel contaminated.”

“So do I. There are times I don’t feel that way, though. And my reasons for taking the brand were much less altruistic than yours. If I can accept what I am, you will be able to accept that you’re not deserving of any of this.”

“What’s really changed, Severus? I mean, I know I didn’t kill my father, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t _try_ to. It doesn’t mean I didn’t _want_ to. I told you before, it was the intent that bothered me so much. I wanted to kill him!”

“Are you aware that I’ve killed? That Albus has killed? Yet you don’t seem to hold it against us. Why are you so much harder on yourself?”

“I wanted revenge. Is that why you killed whomever it was you killed? What about Albus? What had been his motive?”

“I can’t speak for Albus,” he said. “I killed on the orders of Lord Voldemort. For sport. To prove my loyalty to him. Do you still think you’re so much worse than any of us?”

She sighed deeply, leaning back against the sofa. He took her glass from the table to refill her drink, knowing it was probably the only way she’d sleep tonight. As he fiddled about in the kitchenette, he strove to find the words that would convince her she was not the demon she made herself out to be. She was as much of victim of circumstance as her parents had been. And how was he to learn what Nott’s part in the drama had been?

He took the drinks back into the sitting room, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see that she’d fallen asleep. Setting the drinks on the table, he lifted her into his arms and took her to his bedroom. He’d hold her all the while she slept, and he would wait for her nightmares that would be inevitable tonight, satisfied that he’d be the one that would chase them away.

As he held her in his arms, his fingers absently combing through her hair, he let his mind wander. Her dreams...the talent that no one seemed to know about. No one, therefore, would have been able to prepare a defense against it. Could she break into Lord Voldemort’s dreams somehow? What damage could she do there? And would he know she was real?

From what he understood of the Dark Wizard, he knew he had a firm belief that wisdom could be found in dreams. How many of his revel speeches were dotted with the words, “It came to me in a dream.” This could be exploited, Snape was sure. Lisa could feed him ideas that would eventually mean his downfall. The details of those ideas could be planned later, but the problem to be addressed first would be actually getting into those dreams.

She could do it, but she had to know when he began dreaming. If she were too early, there would be no dream for her to enter into, and if she were too late, he’d wake before she could do anything. But how to be anywhere near the Dark Lord while he slept? Snape would bet that even Pettigrew wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near while the Dark Lord was so vulnerable.

Who would be allowed near?

She stirred in his arms, and he began talking softly, lulling her back into sleep. She drifted off once again, and he wondered why it was so difficult to sleep alone when stressed out, as opposed to how easy it was to sleep when you were with someone you cared for?

No. Oh, Merlin, no. He’d figured out a possible way to get near Lord Voldemort as he slept, and it wasn’t an idea worth entertaining. He couldn’t. Not for Albus; not for the Order.

But for Lisa?

He forced his mind away from that horrible thought, forcing himself to concentrate. Perhaps there would be a time the rodent’s presence in the Dark Lord’s sleeping chambers would be acceptable. If so, the obvious answer would be Polyjuice Potion.

No, there was no way to ensure that he wouldn’t wake up to find Lisa sitting there, waiting. Unless...perhaps a strong sleeping potion? Slipped into his food or drink? Such an amateurish ploy seemed too ridiculous to actually work. And wouldn’t the stronger sleeping draughts prevent dreaming, anyway?

As his mind went back to the one idea that just might work, he strove for another answer. If it was just knowing when her target entered REM sleep, couldn’t there be a way to signal her to enter? Did she have to be so near? Perhaps some experimentation was called for. Then, if Snape could somehow plant his own portrait of sorts into Lord Voldemort’s rooms, he could watch as the Dark Lord slept and give Lisa a signal when it was time.

Was that so ludicrous a notion? But what could Snape charm? A mirror? The Dark Lord wouldn’t be likely to keep a mirror in his rooms, what with his less-than-handsome looks these days. A wall hanging? Perhaps. Snape needed to see the room to better assess the situation, and to figure out how to find the time inside to charm what needed to be charmed.

If only the Dark Lord hadn’t the ability to see beyond invisibility cloaks, he’d be willing to crawl to Potter and borrow his. Snape began drifting off to sleep, deplorable visions of that one awful idea haunting him, insisting that he at least seriously consider it.

 

Oh, gods, it felt so good. The heat, the softness, the tenderness...He fought against waking up, so desperate to hold onto this dream, this feeling of being so lovingly handled, pampered. As the soft lips traveled down his neck to his chest, he became aware that Lisa was in his bed; he remembered now how she’d fallen asleep, exhausted, on his couch last night, and how he had carried her to his bed.

He also became aware that her hand was moving languorously down to his stomach, her touch light enough to tease, firm enough to evoke a response. And respond he did. He opened his eyes, looking into her clear, green gaze, and smiled slowly. She smiled back, then turned her attention back to what her hand was doing.

He followed her movements with his eyes, amazed at how instinctively she’d learned exactly how to touch him to make him mad with wanting. Still feeling the laziness of sleep, he let her play, not wanting to rush things by letting his physical needs take over.

He let his head settle back down to his pillow, closing his eyes, every thought concentrating on the heat spreading throughout his body. As her mouth began toying with his chest, lightly sucking at his male nipples, he groaned, no longer able to take a passive role. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her close. He began gasping; every flick of her tongue was perfectly choreographed with the stroking of her hand.

He put his hands on her arms to pull her up so he could feel her lips on his. Shifting his weight, he moved until she was under him, her hands woven into his hair, her legs wrapped around him. He kissed his way down her throat, feeling the vibrations of her moans. Teasing a hard nipple with the fingers of one hand, he used his mouth on the other, feeling the jolt of excitement in his throbbing cock with each new moan he elicited from her.

He reached between her legs, lifting himself for better access, and smoothed a path through the swollen folds, wet with her need for him. As he pushed against the hardened nub, she ground her hips upward, sobbing out her impatience. He could feel the tension in her body; they had both shaken off the last vestiges of sleep. He could feel her unspoken demand, felt her firm grip on his hardness as she guided him to her.

He pushed into her, plunging deeply as she brought up her knees. Oh, gods, this was so good; he pressed hard into her heat, putting his arms under her knees and supporting himself on his outstretched arms. He tried to go slow; it was impossible while looking down and seeing the intensity in her eyes, the blushing flush of her throat. With every thrust, her breasts jiggled, and she was gasping out his name; his name on her lips...He groaned, slamming into her, slapping his balls against her.

He arched his neck, throwing back his head. “Oh, yes...Lisa...” It was so intense; he could feel it building, could feel her beginning to wriggle under him. “Oh, gods, YES!” She’d found exactly which little wiggle worked the best, and they rocked together, soaring upward...he felt her sudden flare of heat...she was almost there.

He looked down, watching himself thrust into her; it was such an erotic sight. His hips were bucking hard, out of his conscious control. She rocked her hips hard; he felt her inner muscles clench at him, over and over, she was calling out his name...

He let go, eyes shut tight against the waves coursing through him as he emptied himself into her. His hips slamming against her...his arms shaking as he began to come down again...his throat raw with the harshness of his breathing and the animal noises that were wrenched from him.

She pulled her legs down and he aimed at the space next to her just before his arms gave out and he fell heavily to the bed, spent. He could hear her striving to catch her breath, and he felt the smug smile of satisfaction spread over his face, loving that he could make her feel this way. She had given herself completely over to him, and she didn’t have to--there was no Dark Lord here to insist, and she could have let him sleep. But instead, she’d chosen this most wonderful way to wake him, and he knew he’d find a way to repair the damage she’d done to herself.

“What an incredible alarm clock you’ve turned out to be,” he mumbled sleepily, gratified at her answering laugh. He rolled over to his back, pulling her into his arms. “Have dinner with me here this evening, Lisa,” he asked her. “I have an idea. But it will take some experimentation to see if it will even work.”

“What?”

“Let’s wait until we have more time, shall we? And we’ll do better to discuss it when I’m not quite so tired.”

“I wore you out, didn’t I?”

He reached around to slap her rear at her insolence, pulling her close as she squealed. They drifted off to sleep together, and his dreams were filled with hope.

 

Albus sat at Severus’ bedside, waiting for the sedative potion to take effect. It was the only way Severus would have fallen asleep tonight, the thrill of exploring a new talent being too exciting otherwise. Lisa was waiting for a signal from Albus; the flash of Floo-powder in her fireplace would let her know it was time to concentrate on entering Severus’ dream.

He tried to let his mind wander aimlessly; focusing on one thought or another was no way for him to sleep, he knew from past experience. When he began to think of their current study, he focused instead on memories of his school days. As thoughts of Lord Voldemort entered his mind, he turned his thoughts to more pleasant things, like how he felt when Lisa was with him.

In spite of the nearly constant dread and fear he felt in her presence, since she was a reminder of his failure to protect her, he felt warmth as well. What was it that attracted two different people to each other? They had things in common, yes; so do a lot of other people who were not together. They each had differences from one another, and so it made for interesting conversations and situations. He couldn’t predict her behavior, and he hoped she couldn’t predict his.

She had forgiven him--at least he hoped so--for going to Albus with his confessions about the Dark Arts matter. She might very well have done the same thing in reversed circumstances. She didn’t hold his dark past against him, as she honestly believed she was so much worse. He would one day...find a way...to convince her...she was...wrong...

He lost his train of thought as he watched the water cascading down the rocks, covering the outcropping that formed a ledge behind it. He climbed the rocks effortlessly, walking through the waterfall, not surprised to still be dry on the other side of it. Instead of the cave he thought he’d find there, he was pleasantly surprised to see a lagoon opening up from the ledge, and he began wading across it to the other side.

He climbed up the bank, sitting down on the long, soft grass and looking at the scenery before him. Something was missing...no, there it was, a Whomping Willow. So deceptively peaceful looking, it was still his favorite tree. He had always admired its ability to defend itself, and it was nice to look at when it was at peace.

Feeling a presence next to him, he felt a rush of elation to see Lisa settling down in the grass by his side. He could now remember that he was asleep. Judging by the odd feeling of the world around him, he surmised that he was dreaming, and their experiment was successful. She’d come in, without having to be in his room to do it.

She leaned forward, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. Even the touch of her lips and hands on him felt different, yet nice. She was corporeal, and he wasn’t waking up, even though he knew it was a dream. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, and still, he didn’t wake.

“How is this possible?” he murmured against her lips.

“Albus threw some Floo-powder into the fire, so I came in. You do know what’s going on, right?”

“I remember. Why am I not waking up? I always wake up when I realize I’m dreaming.”

“I’m holding you here. You can overtake my will by insisting to yourself that you wake, if you want. But I hope you’re not in too much of a hurry.”

“Not me.” He thought for a moment, and was gratified to see that it worked. They were now both naked, and he lunged for her, wanting to know how everything felt in the world of dreams.

“Severus,” she said, pushing him away and laughing. “Keep in mind that Albus is watching over you right now. Do you really want him to see the evidence of what you’re dreaming?”

That was like throwing a bucket of ice water over him. He concentrated them back into their clothing, and sat attentively, like a student who’d been reprimanded for goofing off in class.

“Well, now we know it’s possible,” she said. “What now?”

“Now we find a way to look in on the Dark Lord. If I can get into his sleeping chambers, I have a charm I can use quickly to Transfigure something there into a viewer like his portrait. We can sit here and watch him fall asleep. As soon as he does, you can try to enter his dream.

“Once you’re there, you can feed him information that he’ll think he came up with on his own. I have no doubt that our fellow Order members will be able to help us. There must be no limit to what we can feed him, as long as he thinks they’re his own ideas.”

“So, have you ever seen his sleeping chambers before?”

“No. I rather doubt anyone has. Even his closest servant wouldn’t be trusted to be there when the Dark Lord is asleep. He must have everything warded against it.”

“Then how do you figure you’ll be able to get in?”

Her eyes widened, and he knew she’d come to the same idea he’d had already. The idea he didn’t want to seriously consider. She frowned, touching his cheek in sympathy. “There must be another way,” she said.

“I’m trying my hardest to come up with one,” he admitted.

“But didn’t you once tell me that he was impotent? For what possible reason could he want you in his bed? Simply for the company? Is it just physical closeness he’s seeking?”

“I don’t know. But even impotent, there are things...I mean he might want...” He shook his head, disgusted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t bring myself to think about it. I mean, I can’t bring myself to discuss it; it is all I’ve thought about recently. It’s like worrying a sore tooth.”

“Don’t dwell on it, Severus. Come on, cheer up. What did you always wish you could do, that you can’t?”

He looked at her, confused. Then he remembered...he was dreaming. “I like to fly, but that broomstick is rather undignified.”

She grinned. “So, fly!”

He looked up at the sky. Looking back at her, he saw her standing with her hands on her hips, her head slightly cocked, and her eyes narrowed, challenging him. He looked back up, and bent his knees slightly. Starting with his hands lowered to knee level, he brought them up sharply, throwing them up, pushing up from the ground. He was enthralled to feel the rush as he soared up, higher and faster than he’d ever gone on a broom, and he kept going, leaving his world behind.

Just when he began worrying about how to stop, he leveled off, looking back down to see her tiny form on the ground below. Looking around, he saw grass greener than anything in life; the sky was so blue that it hurt his eyes; the water was still loud as it rushed over the rocks on the other side of the cliff. He could almost feel the spray.

Hovering motionless so high above the ground, he realized that he wouldn’t fall to his death while dreaming. With confidence, he tried zooming around, his body following his will effortlessly.

Such freedom! He discovered flying skills he knew he’d never find on a broomstick. Inside loops; downward spirals, pulling up again just before the ground rushed up to meet him; he even felt cocky enough to try for an outside loop, but a last minute feeling of vertigo caused him to pull up and settle down. He wafted slowly back down to the ground, enjoying her indulgent smile.

He felt like a kid again. Or had he ever felt quite like this, even in childhood? He must take lucid dreaming lessons from this amazing witch. If he could do this whenever he fell asleep, he’d never prowl empty, dark corridors again. He wouldn’t fear sleeping after facing Lord Voldemort ever again. He would never again have to drink himself to sleep.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, knowing he’d better loosen his grip so she could breathe. She seemed to understand what he was feeling; she had to know. Hadn’t she done this for so many people before him? How could this angel believe so much that she was a devil?

He took her hand in his and led her across the lagoon, back onto the rock ledge and through the cascading waterfall. Glancing at each other, not needing words, they both executed perfect swan dives into the river below. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a sweet dream.


	16. The Heaviness of Dread

Chapter Sixteen  
The Heaviness of Dread

Severus looked around at the other Order members, taking his own personal poll. According to the expressions he had no difficulty in reading, most of them seemed impressed at this new information. Albus had just finished explaining to them how Lisa’s skill in entering other people’s dreams worked, and there didn’t appear to be too many skeptics. Not that it mattered, really, but it always resulted in a better meeting if everyone’s minds were open.

Already, the suggestions were coming in. Arthur Weasley wondered if it were possible for Lisa to convince the Dark Lord he should kill himself. Nice idea, but no one wanted to chance the wily Dark wizard catching on that his dream was being manipulated. Retribution for such a crime would be unimaginable.

“Have him lose what trust he has in his followers,” was the contribution from Mundungus.

“And what has he been known to do to those who lose his trust?” Severus put in. “I realize that would play right into your plans, Dung, but no thanks.”

“True, we don’t want anything drastic to happen,” Albus cut in. “It’s probably the wisest course of action if we could try something simple, just to prove to us that it can work.”

“Well, what sort of things had you done in the past?” Lupin asked Lisa. “What sort of things have you gotten your...targets, you call them?...to do before?”

“Nothing like this,” Lisa answered defensively. “Nothing remotely like what we’re trying to do here.” She stared at Lupin for a tense moment before turning away. Severus saw Lupin fidget uncomfortably, and Albus cleared his throat to route attention back to the task at hand.

Molly Weasley spoke up. “What about suggesting to him that he do something ridiculously trivial, and yet out of the ordinary? Like changing the look of the robes? Or the color of the masks? It wouldn’t cause any harm, and it would be evidence that he’s taking his dreams seriously.”

“I think you have the right idea,” Albus said. “Severus, you’re in the best position to tell us. What are the chances we’d get away with something as innocuous as this?”

“I think it’s the best idea we’ll have tonight,” he answered. “As long as Lisa doesn’t get carried away and start suggesting flowered robes and polka-dotted masks.” He slanted a smile toward Lisa, hoping to see her answer in kind. He was worried about her mood. She’d been barely able to function this morning, and only then did he remember that she’d once mentioned exhaustion as a side-effect to her nocturnal wanderings. And now she was sitting too quietly, her face expressionless. It couldn’t simply be Lupin’s assumption that Lisa normally used this skill to play with her targets, could it?

“So, that’s what Lisa feeds him. Anyone object? Have a better idea?” Albus nodded in satisfaction. But that was only part of the problem...

“Any more ideas about how to get her there, Severus?”

Severus willed his face not to burn as he shook his head. He’d be damned if he was going to discuss this part of the plan at an Order meeting. How long before one of these inquisitive idiots come up with the one solution he’d been trying to ignore? His every waking hour had been filled with coming up with a solution, to no avail. None so far, anyway. He was far from giving up.

“You mean she has to be right there, with him?” Lupin asked. “Why are we even discussing this?”

Severus looked over at Lisa, who was not contributing anything to the discussion. He sighed quietly, knowing the matter must be discussed. Who knew where the right answer would come from, after all?

“She doesn’t necessarily have to be there; she merely needs to know exactly when he begins dreaming.” Severus looked at the wizards and witches crowded into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. “If anyone has any ideas as to how we can determine that from a distance, then we can actually go ahead with this plan. If not, there’s no point in continuing this meeting.”

No one had anything to say. Severus knew they wouldn’t, as no one but Lisa and himself knew anything at all about where the Dark Lord was making his home lately, and they couldn’t even guess what sort of fortress he’d built around his sleeping chambers. With something close to relief, he stood. It seemed to signal the others that the meeting was at a close.

He was suddenly short with those around him, but knew no one would find this out of the ordinary. He still had no other idea for gaining entry into Lord Voldemort’s bedroom, save the idea he’d already had. It was no fun to be the object of a lusty pervert’s attention.

Lisa had been quiet, ever since answering Lupin’s question. She headed to the kitchen door ahead of Severus, her head lowered, eyes on the floor. Lupin stopped her at the door before she could leave. “I hope I haven’t offended you, Lisa,” he said contritely. “It wasn’t my intention. I’ve never heard of anything like this before; I just didn’t know anything about how it worked...what you can do.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “No one seems to know about it. That’s why we’re hoping we can get away with it.”

Lupin looked up at Snape, eyes questioning. Snape had no intention of sticking around to satisfy that miserable man’s curiosity, and pushed past him to follow Lisa out the door and up the stairs. As they walked side by side down the dark hallway, she glanced over at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Is everything all right, Lisa? You were very quiet tonight.”

“Everything is fine, Severus. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Did Lupin’s comment upset you?”

“More than I would have thought,” she admitted. “It’s not easy having a skill no one else has, or understands. I’m a freak.”

“Merlin, Flammel, Houdini, Dumbledore,” he murmured. “You’re in good company.”

She smiled. Leaving the house with the rest, they headed in the opposite direction from the others, Disapparating together to three different locations before returning to Hogwarts. Entering the castle, quiet for a change with the students asleep, they passed the closed doors of the Great Hall.

They had reached the staircase. She paused, her foot on the first step. Looking back at Severus, who was waiting for the other staircase to come back into position to lead him down to the lower floors, she seemed to be weighing her words. He turned to face her fully, silently encouraging her to ask what he was hoping she would ask.

“Do you feel like being alone tonight?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I’d rather be with you,” he said simply. He moved to join her in climbing the stairs that led to her rooms.

 

Severus dropped his quill, surprised at the burning in his arm. _So soon?_ He looked at the student who was currently writing lines at the desk in front of him.

“Grovus! That’ll do. Detention is over.”

Grovus didn’t need telling twice. He scooted out of the dungeon classroom fast enough to create a breeze that blew his parchment from his desk, to settle onto the floor. Severus ignored it, following the boy out of the room, knowing that he’d have to do something to regain his nasty reputation after Grovus informed the rest of the student body that he’d gotten away with a ten-minute detention.

He entered his rooms, the doors automatically warding behind him, and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. Poking his head through the green flames, he saw that Dumbledore was alone in his office. “We’re on our way out, Albus,” he told him. “I have an idea I can try tonight. I’ll let you know if it works.”

He left before the headmaster could reply, and grabbing his Death Eater robes from their place in his hidden closet, he hastened through the door behind his kitchen to the corridor that led to the outside.

Lisa was already there; she’d been leaning against the castle wall, waiting for him. How had she gotten down here so quickly? Had she been summoned before his own mark started to burn? Was such a thing possible?

“How long have you been waiting?” he asked her.

“I just got here.”

“From your rooms?”

“From the gardens.”

“You were there with your Death Eater robes?” he asked incredulously.

“Can you tell the difference?”

He looked more closely at her, realizing then that she was still wearing the normal teaching robes she’d had on earlier in the day. “What about your mask?”

“I didn’t bring it. You think he’ll kick me out?”

He narrowed his eyes, staring at her, trying to figure out if she was being flip. “You’re taking some needless chances,” he warned her. “You don’t know what mood he’ll be in. It hasn’t been that long since we’d last been summoned; another summons so soon normally isn’t a good sign.”

“Then he won’t be surprised when he has a dream about enforcing a dress code on us, will he?”

“You planned this?”

“No, but that’s the way he’ll think, won’t he?” He grudgingly agreed, wondering how good she was at wizards chess. If she could figure out this far ahead what the other person was thinking, she must be a hell of a player.

As he followed her out to the Forbidden Forest, he was disconcerted to see Malfoy waiting there for them to arrive. What was he doing here?

“Severus, Lisa, we’d better hurry. Let’s give him no reason to punish us tonight. No doubt he’s already in a foul mood. Do either of you have a clue as to the reason for tonight’s summons?”

“I told you, you’re asking the wrong person,” Lisa answered. “I’ve only just met him. Severus?”

“No idea. Lucius, I must say I’m surprised to see you here. Why didn’t you Apparate directly to him? How did you get here, instead?”

“I was already here, Severus. Lisa and I were enjoying a quiet talk in the garden. I will admit, though, had you two been any longer, I would have already gone. He grabs any excuse lately to punish me. I’m no longer his favorite.”

“Who is?” Lisa asked innocently.

“We won’t know until someone is favored over the rest,” Lucius replied grimly. “His moods change more often than the weather.”

They spaced themselves out among the trees, each separately Disapparating to answer the call of the Dark Wizard.

Although his thoughts were wrestling with the idea of Malfoy and Lisa secretly meeting again-- _Or still,_ he thought darkly--he forced himself to school his mind to relay only certain thoughts to the Dark Lord. He allowed Lisa and Malfoy to make their approach first, loitering away from the circle to make it appear as though he’d not arrived with the two of them.

When he approached, kneeling before the wizard and kissing the hem of his robes, he slowly lifted his eyes to allow the Legilimens to probe into his thoughts. Thoughts of loneliness, of building lust, of his willingness to please the Dark Lord--Severus forced them to the forefront of his consciousness, relaxing only when he felt the intrusion was dissipating. He knew his message had been received.

Judging by the sudden smile on the reptilian face, he was as good as in. Nothing more needed to be done until he was approached by Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort dispensed with the usual pompous speeches the rest had come to expect. He definitely had reasons for calling them all together tonight.

“We are being nipped at the post,” he said, his voice booming angrily. “Someone has let the Ministry know what it is we’ve been doing, and our Floo network has been completely destroyed.”

He paused, and Severus dared a glance around the circle, knowing the weak would allow self-imposed and imaginary guilt to take over their facial expressions, their minds. He looked ahead, readying himself to use Occlumency to block his thoughts, should the Dark Lord turn to him. As Lord Voldemort began to pace within the circle, stopping directly in front of Lisa, Severus locked his knees to keep them from shaking.

“Look at me, child,” the wizard told her.

Knowing she’d have no choice but to look into the eyes of the evil wizard who had forbidden this very thing, Severus waited with dread. It was a no-win situation.

She stood silently, looking at him, seemingly calm. It was more than most of the others would do, and Severus hoped it was a good omen.

Lord Voldemort snorted, turning away from her. She at once lowered her eyes again.

“You show no fear,” he said to the open air. “You look me in the eye and show no fear of your Lord and Master. _Crucio!”_

The sound of Severus’ gasp was drowned out by Malfoy. “No! She only did what you asked!”

The resulting Cruciatus caught Malfoy in mid-stride, and he was thrown four feet before he began twitching, veins standing out on his neck with his efforts to keep from screaming. Lisa hadn’t screamed at all, but no doubt she’d only been given the slightest touch of the evil curse.

Lord Voldemort carelessly waved his hand toward Malfoy, and Severus saw Malfoy relax, taking huge breaths before trying to regain his legs. He meekly regained his place in the circle, looking very shaken. What had the man been thinking of, displaying his concern for Lisa in such a way? Severus wondered now if there was something in the wizard that actually cared for Lisa. His stomach churned, and he dared a glance at Lisa, who was now standing quietly next to him. Were these feelings mutual?

Did she spend the night with Severus last night only because Malfoy was unavailable?

He concentrated on unrelated things as the sound of Nott’s screams filled the air. Clearly, Nott was the reason, at least in the Dark Lord’s mind, that the networking at the Ministry had failed. Severus wondered if such things as guardian angels really existed, but forced his memory of his report to Dumbledore away from his mind, not sure if the Dark Lord was finished with his punishments for the night.

As Lord Voldemort gave the signal that ended the formal part of the meeting, and everyone was allowed to relax, including Nott, and Severus began moving away from the crowd, knowing he’d have to give the Dark Lord a chance to approach him before he made his escape.

Catching sight of Lisa as he walked past, he did a double-take, wondering just how strong was the curse sent her way? She hadn’t moved, didn’t even seem aware that ‘happy hour’ had begun. He was about to ask her how she was feeling when he became aware of Malfoy approaching.

“Lisa, are you all right?” Severus felt the anger burning in him at the concern in Malfoy’s voice.

Lisa hitched in her breath, as if startled, and nodded silently. Severus watched impotently as Malfoy steered her away from the rest of the crowd, speaking too softly for anyone but Lisa to hear.

Quashing his need to grab Lisa and forcibly remove her from the area, he turned to see the Dark Lord making his way over to him. He took a deep breath, again forcing to the front of his mind all the thoughts and feelings he needed Lord Voldemort to believe. Looking up, he mentally squared his shoulders and prepared to do what needed to be done. As always.

“Severus,” the wizard boomed, “I trust things are well with you?”

“As well as I can expect, my Lord.”

Looking toward Malfoy and Lisa, still talking together near a copse of trees nearby, Lord Voldemort leaned closer to Severus, who forced himself not to grimace and lean away.

“And how are you faring without the lovely Lisa at your side?”

“We’re getting along well, my Lord. I think that’s best, knowing Dumbledore will look for any sign of discord among his staff to zero in and begin questioning us. I don’t worry about him suspecting me of anything more than the usual, but then I’ve been lying to him for several years. I think Lisa might fall apart under his scrutiny. We don’t want that.”

“True, true,” Lord Voldemort agreed. “She’s too young to have developed any real skill at deception, I would think.”

“I fear that’s true, my Lord. Perhaps with time, she’ll be more reliable.”

“It’s not that I worry about her loyalties,” came the answer, “but I did want her to have just a taste of what happens when she wavers.”

“And was she wavering, my Lord? Was there any hint that she’s unsure of what she’s doing here?”

“None. But there was a trace of insolence in her eyes when I told her to look at me. That’s why I hit her with that curse. But just a touch of it. I wouldn’t want her already regretting coming to me.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Are you expected back at the castle any time soon, my friend?”

Uh-oh. “No, my Lord. Not for a while. Dumbledore thinks I’m in Diagon Alley, having drinks with some old friends.” _May as well get the worst of it over with now,_ he thought.

“Perhaps you’ll join me for some decent whisky, then? Not this rancid pus I supply to these palate-challenged imbeciles.”

“I’d be honored, my Lord.”

He followed the Dark Wizard to a point outside the revelers, unable to keep from looking back among the trees, searching out Lisa and Malfoy. He spotted them, and Lisa met his look. He saw her lift her hand to her mouth, dismayed, and he concentrated. She allowed him into her mind, and just before the swirling, suffocating sensation of Disapparation hit him, he could swear she was telling him that she loved him.

Severus mentally replayed the moment just before Disapparating while Lord Voldemort poured drinks for them both. There could be no mistake; he’d probed into her emotions and distinctly felt, just as if she’d whispered it to him, the words, ‘I love you.”

So what was Malfoy to her? She had to realize by now that whatever answers she sought would more reliably come to her through Dumbledore, not Malfoy. And if she truly felt anything for Severus, what could she see in Malfoy?

He forced himself back to the present as Lord Voldemort handed him his drink. Such straying of his thoughts might well kill him, and he admonished himself for it. As Lord Voldemort took a seat opposite his own chair, they both lifted their glasses to each other’s health.

He tried not to shift in his chair, to betray his nervousness at being there. He lazily ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass as the other wizard stared at him across the hearth rug. Finally, Severus glanced up.

“You miss her, don’t you?”

This wasn’t what Severus expected to be asked. He wished he knew what the correct answer should be. “I think I miss the closeness more than anything else,” he replied. “There really is a kind of comfort in physical intimacy. I’m not entirely sure it mattered that it was her, specifically.”

“I agree. My upbringing denied me any of that closeness, and my adolescence didn’t change anything, really. Back then, all I wanted was the power. If I couldn’t take it by force, I saw no need for it.”

_Back then?_ He waited, knowing there was more to come. The Dark Lord was staring into the flames of the fire contemplatively.

“I used to think Dumbledore would have been my only friend,” he admitted, surprisingly, to Severus. “He seemed to know things about me that no one else did. I used to think he knew every thought that passed through my head. There was something thrilling in that, but at the time, I only resented him.”

“But there must be someone now whom you trust enough to know you that well,” Severus ventured.

“Only you,” he answered, turning to face him. “Only you know me that well...or could.”

This was it. This could be the opening that Severus feared, yet needed, in order to free Lisa from this hell, and free the rest of them as well.

“What are you saying, my Lord?”

“You know how I feel, Severus. I wonder if your recent dealings with Lisa might have opened your mind up to...other relationships.”

Severus braced himself mentally, and took the plunge.

“Are you inviting me to...how shall I put this...would you like me to stay a while longer?”

Lord Voldemort stood, taking Severus’ glass from him and pulling him to his feet. “Yes, I would.”

_You can do this; she loves you. You can do this; she loves you._ It became a mantra, as Severus followed the Dark Lord down the hallway, into a dimly-lit chamber with a huge bed dominating all other furniture in the room.


	17. To Sleep; Perchance To Dream

Chapter Seventeen  
To Sleep; Perchance to Dream

Severus stood silently at the side of the huge bed. Willing himself not to fall apart, he waited for Lord Voldemort to make his move. Standing passively, he allowed the opening of his robe’s clasps, then the many buttons of his frock coat. Voldemort pushed the heavy material off Severus’ shoulders to fall to the floor at their feet.

As Voldemort worked on the buttons of Severus’ shirt, the younger wizard covertly looked around the room, looking for a mirror, a portrait, anything he could charm while the Dark Lord was distracted. His concentration was broken as he felt the touch of smooth hands on his bared chest. His shirt fell to the floor with his coat and cloak.

Feeling he should show some sign of enthusiasm, he reached for the buttons on Lord Voldemort’s coat, but the Dark Lord pushed his hands away. Knowing it would be less difficult for him to simply stand there and allow it all, he looked around the room again as he felt his belt and fly being undone. As he felt the cold hands intimately touch him, he focused his thoughts on Lisa, wishing the Dark Lord’s hands were at least warm; it would be much easier to pretend it was Lisa doing this to him.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated, and was relieved when his body began to respond. His trousers fell to his ankles, and he toed off his boots and kicked them aside. Remembering Lisa’s declaration just before they’d Disapparated, he forced his mind to the memories of being in her bed. As the cold hands stroked him, he reached up to grasp the beam of the canopy. The canopy! Right above the bed, where the Dark Lord would be having his dreams. Directly overhead, where his eyes could be watched carefully for signs of rapid movement.

He let Lord Voldemort push him down to the bed, lying back and looking straight up. He forced his mind away from Voldemort’s mouth, focusing on Lisa, striving to remember what her mouth felt like instead. Hoping he wouldn’t lose his erection, he glanced down to make sure his lord wasn’t paying attention before lifting his arms toward the canopy and mentally chanting the charm that would make a viewer out of the material over his head. Once finished, he lowered his hands to the mattress, grabbing each side and concentrating again on Lisa.

As long as he kept his eyes closed, and as long as Lord Voldemort didn’t speak, it seemed to be working. He moaned, his hands tightening on the sheets. It seemed to encourage the older wizard, and Severus was startled at the talent in the Dark Lord’s mouth. Groaning, reminding himself not to speak, lest he call out Lisa’s name, he willed his body to believe it was Lisa’s hands massaging his balls, her tongue swirling over the head of his cock, her mouth sucking him...oh gods, the power of the mind...

His hips began to rise to meet the mouth that was making his heart beat so rapidly in his chest. “Oh, yes...yes...oh, gods, yes...I’m getting...so...close...oh...” Grinding his teeth to keep from saying the wrong thing, he let himself go, his moans wrenched from him with each wave of his climax, until he was spent. His gasping breaths sobbed out of him; he struggled for control, suddenly afraid he’d become hysterical, his fear and loathing out of control.

_I survived,_ he told himself. _I survived this much, and it won’t kill me to lie here to await his next move._

His breathing returned to normal, and he forced himself to lie still as the Dark Lord shifted to lie next to him. Wondering if the wizard was waiting for Severus to respond in kind, he looked over at him. But before he could speak, Lord Voldemort smiled.

“Severus, that was even better than watching. And no, before you ask, I don’t want you to do that to me. It’s useless to try; it will only remind me, quite embarrassingly, of what I can’t do anymore.”

Severus looked away, not sure he’d be able to hide the relief he felt upon hearing those words. Glancing up at the canopy once again, grateful this adventure hadn’t been for nothing, he waited for the signal that would mean he could take his leave.

“Dumbledore must be wondering about you by now, I expect. Perhaps we can do this again at some time in the future, when my mind is not occupied with this nasty business of the Ministry and their puerile attempts to dictate to us.”

Wordlessly, Severus stood and began self-consciously to put his clothes back on. The Dark Lord continued. “Still, I would like to remind you that I welcome your company, in any event. And as long as you are still getting along with Lisa, you may bring her along as well. She’s quite fascinating in her own right. It’s not everyone who could look me in the eye with such daring. How does she fare with Dumbledore?”

Snape sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots. “She’s still teaching Druidism in her classes,” he said. “That’s enough to prove she’s not easily swayed by him.”

“Is he upset with her because of it?”

“Actually, my Lord, I believe he’s amused with her because of it.”

“I wonder how she’d do teaching the Dark Arts?”

Sure this was a test, he responded, “I don’t think she’s qualified, my Lord. She’s never practiced it, and her knowledge of it is limited.”

“Well, if she takes up with Lucius, he’ll give her an education.”

Severus tamped down the instant surge of rage within him as he thought about what sort of education Malfoy had in mind for Lisa. Now fully dressed, he stood, looking down at Lord Voldemort and wondering what one said in a situation like this. _So long, it’s been fun? Let’s do lunch?_

“Pardon me if I don’t see you out, Severus. I’m comfortably worn out. Thank you for your company; I think I’ll sleep well tonight.”

“Glad to be of service, my Lord. Until we meet again.” He took Lord Voldemort’s hand to touch his forehead to it, then touched the Dark Mark in the pattern that would return him to the safety of Hogwarts castle, hoping he could leave his self-loathing behind him.

Once his feet touched down in the Forbidden Forest, he leaned heavily against the nearest tree, feeling like his legs would give out on him at any moment. He could feel the trembling deep within him, and fleeting thoughts of throwing himself off the top of the castle kept him from hearing the approaching footsteps. He started violently as he felt a hand upon his shoulder.

He couldn’t stand her touch on him. Not now. He knocked her hand off his shoulder, and pushed past her, heading down to the lake. He couldn’t stop himself, even knowing how poorly he was treating her, but he wasn’t fit for company.

He sat on the boulder facing the serene lake, ignoring her, but not moving away when she sat next to him. It had been thoughts of her, and of what she claimed to feel for him, that had kept him from backing down from his duty. But he didn’t want to look at her; he didn’t want her looking at him. Not knowing that she was aware of what had transpired between him and Voldemort.

She sat quietly, looking out on the lake, seemingly content to share the silence with him. He felt like jumping in, never coming back out. He felt like screaming. He felt like crying. He felt like wrapping his hands around her neck and squeezing for making all this necessary.

He didn’t know how long they sat there. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. At long last, he felt calm enough to speak. “Where is Malfoy?”

“I don’t know. Home, I guess. He didn’t mention his plans to me.”

“Why were you in the gardens with him earlier?”

“We were talking, Severus.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of that, lately. Are you hoping he’ll give you the answers you’re still looking for?”

“Why is it so hard to believe I enjoy his company? That I’m not trying to seduce him or delve into the Dark Arts? Besides, if I want answers, Malfoy doesn’t know as much as Nott does.”

“So why aren’t you playing up to Nott?”

“I’m not playing up to anyone, Severus. Why do men think sex is such a bargaining tool? You have no idea how repulsive your words really are. Besides, I’m sure both Lucius and Nott can get it anywhere, just by taking it.”

“Well, apparently, there’s something about you...even Lord Voldemort admits that he’s quite taken with you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it. But so do most of you, I guess.”

He was reminded that she’d taken another bout of the Cruciatus this evening. It hadn’t been that severe, he knew, but she had acted strangely afterward.

“How are you feeling, Lisa?”

She looked at him, frowning. “I feel fine, Severus. How are you feeling?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Standing, he reached down to take her hand, pulling her off the rock to walk with him. They cautiously picked their way through the darkness of the forest, alert to any creatures that might object to their presence. As they cleared the forest and crossed the road that led to the gates, Severus reminded her that they’d have to see Albus with their report.

“I don’t want him to know how we managed this,” he told her. “We’ll have to come up with something he’ll believe, so he won’t question me too thoroughly. I don’t know if I can stand up to his Legilimency tonight.”

“You mean you’ve already managed to charm something?”

“The canopy over his bed,” he said, grimacing at the memory.

“And what have you charmed as its counterpart?”

“Nothing, yet. Do you think I wanted to chance anyone at the castle watching what was happening over there?”

She took his arm, pressing it close to her. He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut against his inner pain, and pulled her close, breathing in the smell of her hair, her perfume, her very essence. He ran his hands down her back, feeling her body under her robes. Anything to remove the memory of this past evening from his mind.

He released her, draping his arm around her waist as they continued on toward the back of the castle. “Let’s tell Albus we were welcomed into Lord Voldemort’s home to discuss our theories about the destroyed network. As I explained my theory to him, you excused yourself to visit the powder room, and found a chance to charm the canopy.”

“He won’t believe that, will he? I don’t even know the charm to use.”

He recited it to her, then showed her the simple wave of the hand that would give the words power. “It’s not a difficult charm, and also not one that’s easily perceived. Unless he has reason to suspect me, it won’t occur to him that anything was done.

“As for Dumbledore, I don’t think he’d question our being there in Lord Voldemort’s home. Now we just have to charm something in either your room or mine, or even Dumbledore’s office, so that we can watch for the Dark Lord’s sleep cycle.”

“What would we charm?”

“I think the portrait I have on the sitting room wall. We can watch it from the comfort of the sofa. How long does it take the average person to slip into REM sleep?”

“Anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. Each stage of sleep gets shorter during the course of the night, and we should have at least two REM stages during the night. If we catch the first one, we should have roughly twenty-five minutes to enhance his dream.”

They had reached Severus’ private door, and they entered the sitting room from the kitchen. Not entirely surprised to find Albus already waiting for them, he moved Lisa to sit on the sofa and sat next to her. Albus had risen from the armchair to pour drinks for them, having noted their weariness.

“Are you both well? Any problems? Injuries?”

“Tired, mainly,” answered Severus for both of them. “Lisa took a Cruciatus.”

As Albus frowned fretfully, she added, “A very mild one, Albus. He was only showing me what he was capable of. But I think I was forgiven my small transgression. He invited the both of us back to his home to talk.”

“What was your transgression?”

“I looked him in the eye.”

Albus steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them. “You didn’t know you shouldn’t?”

“I knew it, but he demanded it.”

“So, he wanted to inflict pain, but needed a reason.”

“So it seems.”

He looked at Severus. “And what did he wish to speak about in his home?”

“Your Aurors were successful in their dismantling of the Floo network he’d ordered. He was very upset with Nott because of it.”

“Yes, I was told it was done. I had worried that they may have missed something, but it seems they didn’t. I wonder if this network wasn’t simply a diversion; that it was designed to keep us busy while he attacked from another front.”

“If that was his plan, Albus,” Severus said, “then he’s keeping it close to his chest. I’m almost sure no one knows anything more than say, Malfoy or I know. And he seemed too displeased with Nott to want him in his confidence.”

“So where are we now? Did you see anything we can charm for long-distance spying?”

“As Lord Voldemort and I discussed our theories about what went wrong with the network, Lisa wandered into his bedroom and charmed the canopy over his bed. We will now charm that portrait,” he added, nodding to the portrait of Severus’ grandfather, “and wait for him to dream. I feel reasonably secure he’ll sleep soundly tonight.”

“What makes you say that?”

Severus glanced at Lisa, then back at Albus. “He drank quite a bit of whisky this evening. He was already getting sleepy when we left.”

“So perhaps we’d better get that charm going right away. We wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity. Lisa, will you be ready to step into his dreams tonight?”

“Yes, Albus. I’m to suggest that he change our robes and masks, right?”

“Yes, that should do it.”

Severus stood and approached his grandfather’s portrait. The old man looked down on Severus, sighed resignedly, and graciously left the portrait, not wishing to have any magic thrown at him.

Severus muttered the incantation and waved his wand at the portrait. Starting from the center, it appeared to ripple, as water would when a stone is tossed into it. The ripples slowly spread outward, until they began to bounce off the sides and corners to bump into each other again at the center.

He mumbled another spell, and the painting dissolved until they could see inside the bedroom of Lord Voldemort, already asleep in his bed. Severus suppressed a shudder upon seeing the bed again. Lisa, who’d come to stand beside him, took his hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. Albus remained in his chair, half-turned so he could see what was happening. “He looks like an angel when he sleeps, doesn’t he?”

When all three of them began laughing, Severus worried that his laughter would be tinged with hysteria, but they settled down soon enough and watched as one of the Dark Lord’s legs twitched spasmodically.

“That’s characteristic of Stage Two sleep,” Lisa said. “We probably don’t have much longer to wait.”

“Well, I will leave you to it,” Albus said, rising. “It gives me the willies to see that wizard sleep. I think I imagined he never did.” As he left the dungeon rooms, Severus and Lisa sat on the sofa, and Severus charmed the portrait to give a magnified view of Lord Voldemort, so that, even from a distance, they could watch his eyes. When they began moving rapidly under his eyelids, Lisa closed her eyes, concentrating.

He tried to revive her; get her out of it. He had never witnessed her enter a dream before; the only time he’d known her to do it was for his own dream, and he didn’t know what to expect. But whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this.

She was groaning, her entire body tensing up and relaxing, as if having convulsions. He couldn’t wake her; everywhere he touched her, she moaned and pulled away. They hadn’t discussed this enough beforehand, he realized. Was it possible for the Dark Lord to hex her while dreaming? Is this the result of Lord Voldemort finding out what she was doing?

He hesitated to try harder to rouse her; it seemed he couldn’t get close to her without adding to her obvious pain, and he began to pace fretfully back and forth in front of the sofa. Studying the portrait as he passed, he could see that the Dark Lord slept on, seemingly unbothered by his dreams. He looked more closely; the REM was slowing down. Hopefully, that would mean Lisa would soon return to him.

He returned to the sofa where she lay, a thin layer of sweat shining on her face, her breathing shallow and rapid. He pushed her hair away from her face and began undoing the clasps of her robe, opening it up, trying to cool her down. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention; the Dark Lord had rolled over in his sleep. He heard a gasp from Lisa, and turned to find her eyes open, although unseeing. He touched her face, cursing himself when she flinched away.

“Lisa, what happened? Are you in pain?”

Her eyes slowly focused on Severus, and she took in a deep breath, sitting up. He could see her hands were trembling as she covered her face with them. He restrained from touching her, not wanting to add to whatever pain she might be in.

Of course! Invading the Dark Lord’s dream would fall under the category of disloyal actions, wouldn’t it? She was suffering from the side-effects of breaking a magical vow. He wondered how intense the punishment was that she was experiencing. This, on top of her exhaustion at the very act itself, and the earlier curse from Lord Voldemort. Why hadn’t he foreseen this?

He sat next to her, waiting until she collected herself, frustrated with knowing he couldn’t do anything right now to help her. It would pass, he knew. But it was difficult to watch her go through it. He remembered well how painful his own punishments were on those nights when he’d been the victim of the Dark Lord’s rages, yet still had to report his findings to Dumbledore. The minor shocks he’d received upon reporting were magnified a hundredfold when added to the lingering effects of a particularly nasty Cruciatus. When Albus figured out what was happening, he began making it a point to ask if anything went wrong before hearing the reports. There had been many times the headmaster had insisted upon waiting until the next morning to hear the news.

She pulled her hands down from her face, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and turning to look fully at him. “I guess now we can only wait to see if he tells us all to get new robes,” she said.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“What happened? What was his dream like?”

“I couldn’t really tell where we were,” she answered tiredly. “It was dark, desolate; we were the only ones there. If I hadn’t shown up, there’s no telling what he would have dreamed, of course. But it didn’t look like it would be a lot of fun.”

“In his dream, what was he like?”

“Huge. Frightening. It was pretty interesting to see how he thought of himself, really.”

“How did he react to your being there?”

“I never addressed him as ‘my Lord’, or ‘Lord Voldemort’,” she said. “He was outraged, until I pointed out to him that it was his dream, and I had no control over what I said. I was afraid I’d pushed it too far, and that he would try out his power on me, but then, I could escape whenever I wanted to.

“I told him that we, meaning the Death Eaters, weren’t seen as anything special or different, because our robes were too basic. I showed him some material for new robes that he seemed to be impressed with. It had a black background, but with dark gold coloring all through it; it shimmered like it was liquid. He liked it. He himself came up with masks that would look like an antique gold.”

“You showed him material? You conjured that up, in his dream?”

“Sure.”

“I wasn’t aware you could do that.” He studied her carefully. “Are you still in pain, Lisa?”

“It’s almost completely gone now.”

“He didn’t do anything in that dream to hurt you? Frighten you?”

“No, not at all.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I will. Like a rock. What time is it, by the way? I wouldn’t mind getting a few hours in before my morning class.”

“Sleep in. I’ll let Albus know what happened, and he’ll arrange for Binns to take your class. It’s mostly revisions anyway, isn’t it? So close to end-of-term?”

“Yes, the last full review before exams.”

“Let Binns handle it.”

“Thank you, Severus.” She stood, and fell right back down to the sofa.

Severus stood, pulling her up with him. “You can stay here, if you like,” he told her.

She looked at him for a long moment, considering. He had time to worry that she wouldn’t want to be in his bed, knowing whose bed he’d been in earlier. And was he sure he wanted her there? Would her touch bring back vile memories, ruining what he felt for her?

She smiled, finally. “I wasn’t sure you’d want company tonight. I’m glad you do.”

He relaxed, knowing that if he were to purge the distasteful events of the night, she could help him do it. He helped her along, tucking her into his bed. He kissed her lips as she lay there, already on her way to her own dreams. He left the room, seeking out the headmaster to report all that she’d told him.

All they could do now is wait.


	18. A Conversation with Lord Voldemort

Chapter Eighteen  
A Conversation with Lord Voldemort

The minute his ten o’clock class ended, Severus bolted to his rooms, wondering if Lisa had awoken yet. She hadn’t, and he sat on the edge of the bed next to her, watching her as she slept. Without warning, she bolted upright, slamming into him and yelling out inarticulately. He held her tightly, murmuring into her ear, waiting for her to calm down.

He felt her muscles beginning to relax, and she seemed to understand where she was. Her arms tightened around his neck, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her forehead, in no hurry for her to pull away.

“Nightmare?” he asked.

“If so, I don’t remember it,” she answered. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon. You must be starving by now. Shall I send for a tray?”

“No, not for me. Binns took my class for me?”

“Yes, you have nothing on your schedule until tomorrow. Last day of school. If you’re not up to it, it will be no problem for any of us to administer the exam in your place.”

“I’m sure I’ll be all right. I just needed to catch up on my sleep.”

“Do you feel like talking?”

“No, not really. I feel like soaking in a tub full of hot, soapy water.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said, smiling. Pulling her out of bed, he led her into the bathroom, showing her how he summoned forth a luxurious bath set into the floor, and designed to resemble, amazingly so, a pond set into a rich field of green grass.

“Oh, what difficult lives we lead,” she murmured. Grinning while he produced an array of soaps and shampoos, he explained how to use the jets that controlled the bubbles and sprays that went along with the pond.

“Take your time,” he said. “I’ll see to it you’re not disturbed. Can I rest assured that you won’t slip beneath the surface and drown yourself?”

“And waste this treat? I’ll be fine.” She kissed him in gratitude, and he bowed out of the room, deciding a nap would be in order. He’d lost most of last night because he’d stayed awake, simply holding her, marveling at the fact that she was in his bed again.

He lay down on the bed, boots and robes off, but otherwise still fully dressed, and thought about the strange relationship he had with Lisa. Whenever they were together, he knew she wanted to be with him, and he wanted her. He was ready to face down Lord Voldemort for her. But whenever Malfoy was around, the doubts began to creep in, and nothing in her actions or words could put them to rest.

And with Malfoy’s odd behavior lately, Severus had to consider that it was more than the usual conquest he was seeking. There existed the strongest possibility that Malfoy had indeed fallen for Lisa.

And what did that mean?

Did Lisa share any of those feelings, to any degree? Was she stringing either Severus or Malfoy along, for reasons neither suspected? Was she still playing with Dark Arts? And would she answer any of the questions he wanted to ask her, or would she be hurt or angry that he’d even doubt her?

His eyes grew heavy, and he allowed himself to sink into the depths of sleep, knowing he’d wake up when Lisa was finished with her bath. There was nothing on either of their schedules to worry about for the rest of the day...he was more tired than he’d thought...he drifted.

He awoke at the feather-light touch of her hands combing through his hair. She smelled so good; she’d found the jasmine bath oils. She touched her lips to his, and he smiled against them. His own personal human alarm clock. This was the witch he’d once been reluctant to meet?

She sat back, and he forced himself to wake fully. He pulled her down to lie beside him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head against his chest. He ran his fingers through her still-damp hair, touching the softness of her face, tracing the curve of her body. All was right with the world.

Slowly, he began to remember the recent events they’d experienced. She turned to look up at him. Ever on his own wavelength--spooky how she did that--she asked him if he wanted to hear about Voldemort’s dream.

“There’s more?”

“If we get word about new robes and masks, then I think he’ll want to speak to you privately.”

“About what?”

“About Nott.”

He frowned, pushing himself, and her, up to a sitting position. Leaning back against the headboard, he gave her his full attention. “All right, perhaps you’d better tell me all about that dream.”

“I told him that the connection between Nott and me would eventually cause Nott to kill you,” she said calmly.

“I don’t follow you.”

“Nott was there when my mother died. He was involved in the Dark Arts along with my father. Knowing of Nott’s connection with Voldemort, and knowing that Voldemort was most likely the reason Nott was even in America at the time, I wanted Voldemort to tell you what had been going on.”

“Why would he tell me any of that?”

“Because now you’re his favorite. And it sounds to me as though you’re not just one of his servants, Severus. He really likes you. He wouldn’t want someone to attack you, would he? I suggested to him that if you knew what was really going on, you could be on your guard against Nott.”

“And what did he say to that?”

“He appeared to be thinking it over. And he knew just what I was talking about, Severus. You were right; Voldemort is somehow connected to what happened to my family. And it didn’t seem to surprise him to think Nott might want to kill you.”

He digested this new information, wondering how things would proceed. It sounded too easy. His thoughts were disturbed by a noise from the sitting room. Lisa jumped up, cautiously peering around the doorway into the other room. She looked back at Severus, a strange look on her face. “It’s Owl delivery,” she said. “You have a package.”

After performing a quick spell to make sure the package didn’t contain any Dark Magic, he opened it, seeing the swirling gold and black colors of his new robe. Buried underneath the shimmering cloth was a mask--a gold mask. He looked at Lisa, stunned.

“He used normal Owl service for this? Clearly the robes haven’t been consecrated. That will mean another formal revel.”

Lisa was grinning. “I wonder if we all got new robes, or if he’s just showing favoritism.”

Lisa’s packaged arrived about five minutes later. It must have taken that long for the owl to determine where she was. The same style robe and mask. Apparently, all the Death Eaters would be receiving similar packages.

 

Later that evening, as Lisa and Severus were leaving the Great Hall after dinner, Severus stopped, falling against the wall, his head down. Lisa put her hand on his arm, peering into his lowered face. “Severus?”

“My arm,” he explained. “It’s burning.”

“Mine isn’t. This must be just for you, then.”

He lifted his hand, covering his face. He tried to keep it from trembling, but it didn’t matter anyway. He knew she was perfectly aware of what he was feeling.

“I don’t want to go.” He knew he must, but sometimes it was nice to imagine that saying the words might, by some miracle, make a difference.

“He might just want to tell you about Nott.”

“I won’t know until I get there. I suppose I’d better get those new robes.”

She followed him to his rooms, where he picked up the robes and mask. She insisted on walking out with him to the forest. Fearing she’d stay there all the while he was gone, he reminded her that he hadn’t told Dumbledore he was going. She nodded, understanding that she was to relay the message. He didn’t want her loitering outside the perimeter of Hogwarts’ protection.

“And, Lisa,” he asked desperately, “promise me that you’ll stay away from the portrait of my grandfather while I’m gone, just in case...”

“I promise, Severus,” she said, letting him see the truth in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be you there, anyway; not really. And there are wards on it, so no one else could see it, either. No one.”

He pulled her close, kissing her, wanting her imprint on him. It might be enough to get him through whatever he might face at this summons.

It was more difficult to keep his face expressionless than it had been in the past. He struggled to hide what he was feeling from Lord Voldemort as he pulled on his boots. He stood, looking at the Dark Lord, waiting hopefully for any sign that he could Disapparate away from here.

But Voldemort gestured for Severus to follow him, and they made their way down the hallway into the sitting room. Sitting before the fire, he nodded to Pettigrew to pour drinks, and then to leave.

Severus waited quietly.

“How do you like the new robes, Severus?”

“Quite elegant, my Lord. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“That’s the point. They set us apart. My purpose in summoning you here, Severus...at least one of the reasons, is to tell you that you might be in danger from someone. You’d do well to watch your back with Nott.”

“Nott has taken issue with me?”

“I fear he believes you may be aware of certain facts about his past that you’ll use against him.”

“I know what everyone else knows, my Lord. Is he planning to do away with the rest of the Death Eaters as well?”

“Possibly Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy also knows what Nott is afraid that you know. I do plan to warn Malfoy as well.”

“Why don’t you simply do away with Nott?” Too late, Severus realized his words were presumptuous and rushed to qualify them. “I mean, I don’t wish to thin out your ranks, my Lord, but if we have an upstart in our midst, might it be more trouble than it’s worth to wait for these ill feelings to simply go away?”

“I doubt they’ll go away. And right now, Nott is too valuable a tool for me to get rid of. I will speak to him about restraint, and see if I can’t clear things up. I won’t have him going after either you or Malfoy. I want you by my side when my plans come to fruition, and Malfoy is also one of my strongholds.”

“What is it that Nott thinks I know, my Lord?”

“He’s Lisa’s uncle.”

When Severus stopped choking on his whisky, and was once again able to speak, he chose his words carefully. “Is Lisa aware of this, my Lord?”

“I think not. Her memories had been wiped out some years back, and there’s no evidence she’d regained them. But I suppose I’d better start at the beginning if I expect you to understand what’s at stake here.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Setting his drink down on the table next to his chair, Severus decided he shouldn’t drink any more of it until he heard the whole story. Death by choking was so undignified.

“In America, there lives a powerful influence by the name of William Whitcomb. He doesn’t hold an office in Muggle politics, but he’s the one who makes their politicians. He’s the force behind the public figures. To the Muggle world, he’s simply someone who wields all the power. It’s not really their president or cabinet that rules the country; it’s the William Whitcombs of the nation that do.

“The Muggles do not know, of course, that he’s a wizard. A very powerful and Dark wizard. My American brother, in a sense. I had, at one time, thought the two of us might unite our causes and eventually spread out to the rest of the world. What I really thought, in my rashness, was that I would destroy him and take over his legions. To this end, I employed Nott to become one of his followers; to spy, to report to me Whitcomb’s weaknesses. I was looking for a chink in the armor.

“Nott was perfectly suited for this task. He knew enough about America and Americans to pull it off. He could even sound American. He had relatives in the country who could help him. He began to recruit his sister and his brother-in-law, since his brother-in-law, Raymond Carus, was already following Whitcomb. We were aware Carus had already begun to question Whitcomb’s ways, and I felt he was ripe for a change.

“We didn’t count on Carus having a child. We hadn’t known until we’d already set my plans in motion. When a witch or wizard has offspring to consider, they begin to get unreasonable. For years, Nott worked on both Carus and his wife, Linda, trying to win them over to our side. Nott used to try and teach young Lisa the ways of the Dark Arts, whenever he got the chance.”

Severus shifted in his seat. It hadn’t been Carus at all, teaching Lisa the Dark Arts. Had she no memories of Nott, other than the night her mother had been killed?

“Linda, somewhere along the line, decided she didn’t want Lisa involved. She most likely didn’t want to be involved herself, but simply had followed along because of Raymond’s involvement. But things began to come to a head here at home. It was about then that I learned of the Prophecy and you know all I did to prevent that from happening. I had to put my plans for America on hold while I dealt with the Potters, among others.

“You know what happened after that; I spent the next several years trying to regain my strength, my followers...I couldn’t be bothered about the problems in America. I had no knowledge, or even interest, in what was happening there. For all I knew, Nott had deserted me with the rest.

“But I learned later Nott had no intention of abandoning that plan. He thought to continue working on Carus, so Whitcomb could be taken care of. I didn’t know if he did this on the assumption that I was still around, or if he thought he’d take over himself. After I came back, I put him through several bouts of Cruciatus, hoping to learn his motives. To this day, I have my doubts.”

Severus dimly remembered ignoring the burning of the summons after the Triwizard Tournament. He’d gone eventually, on Dumbledore’s orders, and had suffered terribly for his tardiness. He didn’t want to think about what Nott had gone through.

“By the time I’d come back, Nott had given up on America. When I questioned him about it, wanting a full report, he confessed it had been a botched job. He’d killed his sister because she was threatening to expose him to Whitcomb. Then he had to Obliviate Lisa so she wouldn’t be an effective witness against him, for the Muggles or the wizarding tribunal.

“The only reason he didn’t kill Lisa was because he’d thought he could still rely on Carus. What he didn’t seem to understand was that as soon as he’d killed Carus’ wife, he’d made a new enemy. For some reason, Nott had somehow reasoned that Linda was his sister, and he could kill her without anyone else sticking his nose in it. It had escaped him that Carus might object to Nott’s killing his wife. Nott is not the brightest wizard I’ve ever come across.

“So, they’d dueled. Nott escaped with his life, and left Carus to deal with the authorities, both Muggle and wizard. Carus managed to manufacture a story that satisfied the Muggles, and the wizards, without conclusive proof, simply decided to sweep the entire matter under the proverbial carpet. Lisa had been a convenient scapegoat, and since she was so young, not much happened. She was placed in Muggle homes after that, and never saw her father again.

“What we didn’t know at the time was that his reasons for doing that were to keep her away from the wizarding world. Who knew one day she would re-enter it? She was educated at wizarding schools, including university. How she managed that, no one really knew. There must have been an American Dumbledore looking out for her; that’s all I can assume.”

_Of course,_ Severus thought. Their entire world here was probably duplicated in America. Wasn’t it more or less the same throughout the world? Severus waited for the Dark Lord to continue. When he didn’t, he began to fidget.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he said quietly. “I still don’t understand how it involves me, or how Nott _thinks_ it involves me.”

“Nott found out Carus had, in his possession, an effigy of him. It was purchased from a voodoo queen in some southern state, and her reputation was impressive. She wouldn’t have sold it to anyone who didn’t know how to use it.

“Nott immediately went to the States to deal with Carus. We didn’t know how long it would take, because we didn’t know what spells would have been used. Nott cursed him with the Adficius. It was slow, but the only option, as it would leave no evidence behind. It was imperative that Muggle authorities, as well as wizard investigators, must not suspect anything other than natural causes. Pains were taken to ensure there were witnesses who could attest to the gradual decline in Carus’ health.

“But he couldn’t find the effigy. To this day, it remains lost, and with it, our secrets. I fear Nott believes Lisa to have found it, and not knowing what it was because of her faulty memory, that she might have turned it over to you. That’s why Nott wants you dead.”

“I have no effigy, my Lord. Lisa never mentioned one to me.”

“It’s also why he’s worried about Malfoy,” the Dark Lord continued, as if Severus hadn’t spoken. “Lisa seems to be somewhat friendly with both of you, and since both of you understand Dark Magic, you’re both in danger from Nott.”

“Isn’t there some way to straighten all this out with Nott, my Lord?”

“You say you don’t know about the effigy, but I haven’t yet questioned Malfoy. Until I do, I think we’ll just leave Nott alone. I just want you to be warned about him, so he doesn’t get up to any mischief in the meantime. I plan to summon Malfoy tomorrow, and tell him what I’ve told you.”

“I understand, my Lord.” He wondered if courtesy demanded that he warn Malfoy of the Dark Lord’s impending summons. _No,_ he decided, _let him sweat it out on his own._ It will be one evening he wouldn’t have to worry that Lisa was with him.

Taking his leave of Lord Voldemort, he Disapparated once again to the Forbidden Forest, glad this time to see Lisa waiting for him.

He stared at her, standing three feet away from him, clearly not sure if she should venture closer. The last time they’d stood here, he’d felt degraded and unfit for the company of humans. She’d stayed, and before long, he’d been glad of it. Would it be the same this time?

She moved a step closer, watching his face, gauging his reaction. Wishing to be alone, he nonetheless reached for her, and she threw herself into his arms. He buried his face in her silken hair, cradling her head into his shoulder. Already, he was glad she had waited. As he was reminded of what the Dark Lord had done, he had a moment with the threat of nausea, and amassed all the self-discipline within him to take his mind away from it, to concentrate on the woman in his arms instead.

Knowing Dumbledore would be awaiting his report, he reluctantly released Lisa and they headed back to the castle. She was silent, and he was grateful. He planned his meeting with the headmaster, glad that he only had to omit the first part of the meeting.

“Lisa, do you plan on coming with me to Albus’ office for the report? It concerns you. You were right in assuming that he’d want to speak to me about Nott.”

“I’ll come along.”

They headed to Severus’ rooms, where he headed straight to the bottle of whisky he hadn’t bothered to put away since his last drink. He held it out to Lisa, and when she shook her head, he poured out a healthy shot and downed it, waiting for the burning of his throat and stomach to take away the slimy feeling he still had after the Dark Lord’s attentions.

Upon revealing everything to Albus that Voldemort had told him of Lisa’s background, he was surprised at her silence. Not a single question? No shock in her eyes?

“Lisa, has any more of your memory returned to you?” he asked her when they returned to his rooms.

“Bits and pieces,” she answered. “Nothing about that night my mother died. Just random things from my early school days, neighborhood kids, that sort of thing.”

“You don’t seem surprised by what I’ve told you and Albus. You knew Nott was your uncle?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her, shocked. “When were you planning to tell me about it? And how did you find out?”

“Lucius told me. I realize now that the voice I heard yelling just before I went downstairs that night was Nott, not my father. That’s why I didn’t recognize it. I’d always thought it was just that I wasn’t in the habit of hearing my father yell so loudly.”

“And what else do you know about that night? And how does Malfoy know?”

“It’s just like you thought, Severus,” she said. “Malfoy was aware of everything Nott did. He told me that it was, in fact, Nott who killed my mother. That it was also Nott who killed my father. Remember when I told you my mother taught me Occlumency to protect me from my father?”

He nodded, hating that she’d spent enough time with Malfoy to gain all this information.

“I’m thinking maybe she taught me things like that, not to protect me from my father, but from Nott. She knew what he was doing.”

“And just when did our dear Malfoy tell you all this? How long have you known that Nott and you are related?”

“Since that night I took the Dark Mark.”

“Malfoy told you this while Lord Voldemort was there?”

“No, it was earlier in the evening. While you were with Voldemort, I was with Lucius.”

“Then why did he come back later? He came right to your rooms, and took you to Lord Voldemort to get branded.”

“That must have been after Voldemort found out you and I weren’t seeing each other anymore, remember? Maybe he was afraid I’d just stop coming to the revels. I mean, they would have wanted to keep an eye on me, wouldn’t they?”

“So, you still trust Malfoy?”

“I never fully trusted him, Severus. But I don’t _mis_ trust him as much as you do.”

He didn’t know what to say to her. The idea that she would place her trust in someone like Malfoy, that she would pretend ignorance while holding onto such a vital piece of information... What else didn’t he know about her? What really motivated her? Exactly how friendly was she with Malfoy? He stood, making excuses of fatigue to effect her departure from his rooms.

He had too much to think about to want her here with him. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her here in the future, either.


	19. Hell Hath No Fury...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfamiliar terms used in this chapter:
> 
> Infindus Curse--To cut into.  
> Ultio Ultionis—Extreme punishment; revenge.

Chapter Nineteen  
Hell Hath No Fury...

Severus concentrated on the examination parchment in front of him. Why had he insisted on essays? If he had taken the easy way out, he could have used fill-in-the-blank or multiple choice finals; he’d have been free by now. As he slashed his red-inked quill through numerous spelling errors and appalling punctuation-- _Why did these moronic teens think spelling only counted in an English composition class?_ \--he irritably waved his hand at the owl circling his desk.

Only after it hooted at him indignantly did he realize he had an incoming message. He allowed the owl to land on his desk and untied the scroll from its leg. Conjuring up an owl treat, he sent the owl back on its way, and smoothed open the parchment.

_Severus,_  
_Please come at once to St. Mungo’s. I have Lisa here;_  
_she’s been gravely injured. The Healers are reluctant to_  
_discuss her prognosis with me. That’s either because they_  
_don’t feel I have a need to know, or worse, because they_  
_simply don’t know. I’ll have an elf waiting in reception_  
_to bring you up here._  
_Lucius_

  


Leaving the exams where they could rot for all he cared, Severus grabbed a handful of Floo-powder and shot over to the headmaster’s office. If the medical staff at St. Mungo’s was being uncooperative, it was a job for Albus.  


Finding Albus alone and seemingly unoccupied, Severus wordlessly showed him the message from Lucius. After reading it, he looked up at Severus, his eyes questioning. “No other information?” he asked, heading to his fireplace.

“None but what you see, Headmaster.”

Tossing in a handful of powder, Albus stuck his head into the new flames and spoke. Withdrawing once again, he began to pace around Severus and the desk. “It’s not a good sign that she was with Lucius,” he said, thinking out loud. “She could have been attacked by Voldemort, or Nott...” He stopped abruptly, looking through narrowed eyes at Severus. “You don’t suppose Lucius could have...”

“No, Albus,” Severus replied. “I don’t think Malfoy would have taken the time to get her to St. Mungo’s if he were the cause of her injuries. He would have vanished, leaving her to her own devices.”

With a bright flash of green fire, Minerva McGonagall popped into the office, patting her hair into place as she nodded to the both of them. “Is there a problem, Headmaster?”

“Yes, Minerva. It seems our young Miss Carus has found a spot of trouble and Severus and I are off to see to it. I don’t know how long we’ll be, so if you would kindly watch over things until we’re back?”

“Of course, Albus. She wasted no time in starting her holidays, I suppose. Ah, youth...”

“Not that sort of trouble, I’m afraid. She’s in St. Mungo’s.”

“Oh, dear,” Minerva gasped, her fingers covering her mouth. “What happened?”

“We don’t know yet,” cut in Severus. “But we’ve every indication that it’s serious, so we’d best be on our way.”

“Indeed,” replied Albus. “I believe the Floo would be quickest. After you, Severus.”

Severus entered the fireplace, waiting for Albus to take a handful of Floo-powder and join him. Minerva still stood, hand covering her mouth, worry clearly etched into her eyes, and watched them disappear.

They Apparated into an alley behind some once-popular shops in London. As Severus began heading toward the street, Albus restrained him with a hand on his arm.

“We don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention, my boy,” he said, as he waved his wand over himself. His purple, star-spangled robes at once transformed into denim jeans, a tie-dyed tee-shirt, and sandals on his bare feet. Snape, at any other time, might have laughed at the has-been hippie image the old man displayed.

Instead, he turned his wand on himself. Not putting a lot of thought into it, he ended up wearing black trousers, a simple button-down black shirt, and his normal boots, minus the spats. He wordlessly resumed his steps down the alley when a flash of color caught his eye. Looking down at himself, he was surprised to see that his black shirt was now off-white. He looked incredulously at Albus, who simply shrugged, catching up to him.

“Call me superstitious, but I didn’t want to feel as though we were about to attend a funeral,” he explained.

Sweat broke out on Snape’s forehead as he remembered Lucius’ message. They rounded a corner and stood before a large window, where Dumbledore spoke a few words to the mannequin just inside. The glass shimmered, and the two wizards entered St. Mungo’s reception area, where an elf ran forward to greet them.

“Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape,” the elf greeted, bowing to them. “Master has sent Trinity to escort you directly to Miss Carus. Master sent Trinity because Master is afraid to leave the side of Miss Carus. Miss Carus is hurt, sirs.”

Following the elf, Snape absent-mindedly listened to the conversation between her and Albus. He began climbing the steps behind them.

“And how are you, Trinity?”

“Professor Dumbledore is too kind in asking,” Trinity answered humbly. “But I am well, and happy to be here to help Master. It is important that Professor Snape come right away. Master might be pleased to see Professor Dumbledore as well,” she added. “Master is frustrated with the Healers here because they do not tell Master much. Master feels it’s his fault because the Healers do not trust him with information. Master was hoping Professor Snape could help.”

Snape was dismayed to see they were stopping on the fourth floor. Spell Damage. Spell damage serious enough to land her here, instead of to Hogwarts’ Madam Pomfrey. With his heart in his throat, he pushed through the doors after Albus and Trinity, his eyes immediately searching all the beds until he spotted Malfoy heading toward them, almost running. He had a look in his frosty blue eyes that Snape didn’t recall ever seeing before.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, addressing all of them. “Thank you, Trinity. You can return home, if you like.”

“Oh, no, Master! Please permit Trinity to stay. Trinity can help!”

“All right, thank you.” Snape was amazed to see Malfoy gently touch his hand to Trinity’s head before he turned his attention back to Dumbledore. Since when did Malfoy speak so kindly to house-elves? Since when did he request, instead of order? And since when had he ever touched a house-elf with anything less than violence?

He forgot all that as he looked more closely at Malfoy. There was an evil-looking laceration that had been haphazardly healed, which began just under his left eye, blazed a trail down until it cut through his lips, and continued diagonally across his throat, disappearing under the collar of his robes.

He led them to the far end of the ward, and Severus braced himself to see how badly she’d been injured. If Malfoy was almost sliced open, but didn’t care about scarring, he didn’t want to know how serious Lisa’s injuries were.

The color of her face was hard to distinguish from the white of the pillow she lay on. She was so still that Severus found himself staring at her chest, waiting for any sign of her breathing. Impatiently, he gently touched his finger to her neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, but feeble. He turned to Malfoy. “What happened?”

Malfoy seemed to cringe a little at the ice in Snape’s voice, but he took a deep breath, and Severus knew he’d answer.

“Lisa and I were in the gardens at Luton, where Narcissa happened upon us. She’d no doubt used a tracker spell to follow me. She got entirely the wrong idea, and attacked us in a fit of jealously.”

“The wrong idea?” Severus asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

“None of this is Lisa’s fault,” Malfoy said, looking down at Lisa. “She could very well die because of this, and she did nothing to warrant it.”

Severus noted how Malfoy’s voice cracked very slightly, and his fears about Malfoy’s feelings toward Lisa resurfaced. “What, exactly, did Narcissa do, Malfoy?”

“She used the Infindus Curse on both of us, but we were moving, so it didn’t do as much harm as she’d hoped. She caught Lisa across her back, but the Healers have completely mended that. They’d replaced the blood she lost and I don’t believe there will be a scar.”

“You’ll have one,” Albus put in, “unless you let them continue your treatment.”

Malfoy shrugged, further surprising both Albus and Severus. “The real problem,” he continued, “is the Ultio Ultionis hex Narcissa threw at Lisa right after. You know how vague that spell is, Severus. That’s the hex that has the Healers worried.”

Albus sat heavily into the chair that Trinity magically scooted under him in the wink of an eye. She conjured two more, for Severus and Malfoy, then disappeared. She almost immediately returned, bearing a tea tray and pouring a cup for the three wizards. Above and beyond the call, Severus thought absently, accepting the tea she handed him. Only a happy house-elf would behave this way. He accepted that he would have to re-think a lot of what he’d known of Malfoy.

Malfoy, his hands shaking, replaced his cup on the tray and leaned forward, resting his forehead on his hands. Severus looked over at Lisa, willing her to show some sign of life, staring at her eyelids, hoping to at least see some movement there.

Albus seemed to shake himself, and he leaned closer to Malfoy. “Lucius, what were you doing, precisely, that caused Narcissa to do what she did?”

The words were softly spoken, encouraging confidences, but still, Severus was surprised that Malfoy answered.

“I was kissing her, Professor. I was very passionately kissing her.”

Severus could feel the blood drain away from his face. It was no more than he had expected, but to hear confirmation of his fears was still a shock. He looked back at Lisa, wondering how such a beautiful face, such a slender body, could hold so much treachery?

“Then I think we know what Narcissa was feeling when she cast the curse,” Albus said calmly. “That’s the first step in reversing it. Now, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the angriest, how angry was she?”

“I’d have to say about fifteen, Professor.”

“Oh, dear. We do have our work cut out for us. We won’t be able to do anything without Narcissa’s help. How do we get that?”

Ice and granite came to Malfoy’s voice, in tones that Severus, in all his years of knowing Malfoy, had rarely heard before. “She’ll be only too happy to work with us in reversing this, Professor. That, I will guarantee you.”

“I wish to speak to the Healer-in-Charge before leaving here,” Albus said. He stood, and to Severus’ surprise, put his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. Bowing courteously to Trinity, Albus left the ward.

Malfoy looked up at Severus. “We have to tell the Dark Lord about this,” he whispered. “He’ll know about someone close in his ranks using Dark Curses, and the longer he waits to hear what’s happened, the more furious he’ll be.”

“You go right ahead and face him,” Severus said heartlessly. “I’ll stay here and see if the Healers will talk to me.” He turned away, not wishing Malfoy to think for one moment that he had any sympathy for him.

“Severus,” Malfoy said, “you heard what I told Dumbledore. It’s true, but you have to know...the passion was all on my side. She wasn’t kissing me, she was trying to push me away. She never led me on; I just kept after her. I never really knew how she felt about you, or how you felt about her. It was just that...”

Severus turned back to him, interested. Malfoy continued. “She never treated me as though I were someone to be impressed with. Someone who inspired fear or awe; someone who needed a sycophant around. She just let me be...me. This is actually the first time I’ve ever known someone who truly thought of me as her friend. It was...intoxicating.”

“And you subjected this _friend_ to Narcissa’s wrath?”

“I just didn’t understand, Severus. It was new to me...I mean, the very idea of a woman wanting my company, just for the friendship. Until I met Lisa, and even after I’d met her, I was of the belief that there was only one reason for men and women to make each others’ acquaintance. Sex. What else was there? It took this afternoon to open my eyes. She really didn’t want that from me.”

They both looked back at Lisa, who’d not moved at all in all the time they’d been there. She was barely breathing. Severus looked at Malfoy.

“Do you see her pendant?” he asked him.

“What about it?” Malfoy asked.

“Do you notice how it’s swirling?”

“Doesn’t it always? I must admit, I’d never really paid attention.”

Severus didn’t answer as he gazed unseeingly out the window, wondering what major change the pendant was heralding. It might mean she would be forever changed because of Narcissa’s curse; it might mean something totally unrelated; it could also be predicting her impending death.

“Let’s go ask for an audience with our Lord,” Severus said.

 

“And just how did this young lamb in my flock escape your protection?” The Dark Lord put terror into both Severus’ and Lucius’ hearts as he paced agitatedly back and forth in front of them.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Lucius said, his eyes on the carpet. “I wasn’t aware Narcissa had followed me. I was...distracted.”

“I know you were distracted, Lucius! You’re always distracted. And what were you doing with Lisa? You know she belongs to Severus!”

“I’m aware of that now, my Lord. At the time, there was some question...”

_“Crucio!”_

Severus tried to ignore the gasps and near-yells escaping from Lucius. It was never easy to watch someone endure the Dark Lord’s anger, and he mentally prayed for it to end.

With a careless wave of his hand, the Dark Lord ended Lucius’ anguish. He turned to Severus. “And how is it you let her escape your watchful eye?”

“She has always proven to be elusive, my Lord. Trying to keep her under control can be almost as painful as suffering your punishments.”

“You’ve neglected your duty as her protector. Or did you forget what your responsibilities were, bringing her to me?”

“No, my Lord. I didn’t forget.”

_“Crucio!”_

He almost embraced the pain, feeling he deserved every bit of it. As the curse ended, he lay on the floor at Lord Voldemort’s feet, trying not to twitch. It was difficult, as the pain had left him breathless and he was struggling to take in huge gulps of air.

He forced himself to return to his seat, pushing the hair away from his sweat-soaked face. Lord Voldemort had resumed his pacing. Severus waited for the next Cruciatus, and knew Malfoy was doing the same.

“She came to me in a dream, you know,” the Dark Lord was saying. “She warned me that Nott would try to kill you, Severus. That’s why I told you what I did about Nott’s background.”

Voldemort’s referring to his dreams was nothing new to either of the wizards watching him pace. But did he really think Lisa had come to him? Severus and Lisa had believed he would assume it was his own subconscious mind coming up with these answers. He struggled to concentrate, knowing the way Lord Voldemort thought about his dreams would determine what could or couldn’t be done in the future. _And, please, let there be a future._

Turning to Malfoy, Lord Voldemort pointed a finger at him, stopping his pacing. “I want to see Narcissa! You will bring her to me, because if I summon her myself, she’ll not survive the Apparation!”

Malfoy threw himself to his knees on the floor before Lord Voldemort. It had to have hurt, on top of the lingering pain of the curse he’d already suffered.

“Please, my Lord! Let me handle her. None of this had anything to do with her loyalty to you! She was acting on passion and anger! If she had thought for one moment how highly you thought of Lisa, she never would have done this, I promise you! Please do not punish Narcissa because of my failings!”

Severus squeezed his eyes shut against the curse he was sure would follow. All was silent. He ventured a peek, and saw Lord Voldemort walking away from Lucius. Lucius bowed his head, probably bracing himself for another curse. But the Dark Lord sat down in the chair before the empty fireplace. Lucius looked up at him, still on his knees. Severus dared to take another breath.

“I need to think about this in solitude,” the Dark Lord said ominously. “Lucius, take no action on this matter until you hear from me. The same goes for you, Severus.”

“Yes, my Lord,” they answered.

Upon Disapparating back to the alley behind St. Mungo’s, Lucius staggered, falling against the wall of the shop. Severus propped himself up by leaning an arm against the same shop wall, willing the dizziness and twitching to stop. It was hell Disapparating so soon after taking the Cruciatus.

“Narcissa’s just as good as dead, isn’t she?”

Severus looked carefully at Lucius, wondering if he really cared about his wife. “I think that his wanting to think about it before he decides what’s to be done is a good sign,” he answered. “He does have other things to worry about, after all.”

Lucius pushed himself away from the wall and began walking toward the street. Severus followed behind him, wondering how long they’d been gone. Had Albus gone looking for them yet? Had he found out anything more from the Healers?

They re-entered the hospital, heading up to the fourth floor to wait. Albus was already sitting there, looking no less grave than he’d been earlier. At their approach, he shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more,” he said, not questioning their absence. “We will need Narcissa’s cooperation if we’re to see Lisa out of that bed. Lucius, have you spoken to her yet?”

“No, Professor.” He glanced at Severus. “I wonder if that would fall into the category of taking action?”

“Pardon?” Albus looked inquiringly at the two of them.

“It’s nothing, Albus,” Severus said quickly, knowing Albus would take the hint. “Perhaps, Lucius, if I could have a word?”

Lucius spoke a few words to his house-elf, then followed Severus back out into the hallway. “Why don’t you explain to Narcissa what the Dark Lord told us,” Severus suggested. “Simply let her know how serious a matter this is, and just sound her out about whether or not she’s willing to put things right. Don’t do anything, but this way we’ll have a plan once we hear from Lord Voldemort again.”

“All right.” Malfoy looked back at the ward doors. About to leave, he stopped, turning back to Severus. “You’ll keep me informed as to how she’s doing?”

“Of course.”

Malfoy nodded and left. Severus went back in and sat in the chair next to Albus, gratefully accepting the tea Trinity poured for him. “You’re staying with us?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes, Professor Snape. Master says Trinity is very helpful and help is needed here more than at home. Trinity will help however she can in this crisis. Master is relieved.”

“As well he could be,” said Albus. “You’re a comfort to him, Trinity.”

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Trinity noticed that Master is also comforted by Professors Dumbledore and Snape coming here. Master was afraid no one would come. Master blames himself for Mistress’ treachery.”

“What do you know about what happened, Trinity?” Severus asked her.

“What Trinity knows, Trinity cannot say, Professor Snape. It would be disloyal to Mistress, and is of no use, anyway. Trinity is worried now. Trinity is torn between loyalty to Mistress and loyalty to Master. And now, since Master has given Trinity instructions on staying here and being helpful to Professors Dumbledore and Snape, Trinity is afraid that by being helpful, Trinity will show disloyalty to both Mistress and Master.”

“Point taken, Trinity,” smiled Albus. “Rest assured, we’ll not prod you for answers. We don’t want to put you in that difficult position.”

“Master has said that Professor Dumbledore is a wise wizard,” Trinity said, beaming. “Trinity now sees he was right. Trinity thanks you, Professor Dumbledore.”

Severus said nothing more, but wondered what the elf might know that would shed more light on what Narcissa was feeling when she’d hexed Lisa. On the surface, it looked like a jealous wife’s rage. But Trinity’s words made him wonder if it wasn’t just an excuse to do away with Lisa.

He wondered what Narcissa’s role in all this really was as they waited for some sign of life from Lisa.


	20. The Unusually Verbose Lucius

Chapter Twenty  
The Unusually Verbose Lucius

Severus walked into the fourth floor ward, hesitating when he saw Lucius sitting on Lisa’s bed, facing her. But Lisa was sitting up, and she saw him approach. A smile lighting her face, she sat up straighter, and Severus moved closer.

Lucius looked up and, seeing Severus, he sat down on the chair next to the bed. He nodded silently to Severus, who just as silently nodded back. He noticed there was very little trace of the wound that had crossed Lucius’ face after Narcissa had attacked. He must have consulted with a Healer before taking his leave yesterday.

He took in Lisa’s appearance. She was still very pale, and it didn’t look as though her food had been doing her any good. Looking at the untouched tray off to the side, he realized that until she actually ate any of the food, he wouldn’t be seeing any real improvement.

“How are you feeling, Lisa?”

“It’s an impossible question to answer, Severus. I do feel as if I’ll survive, if that’s what you mean.”

“It will do for now. You had us worried.”

“So I hear.”

He glanced again at Lucius. “Since Lisa is conscious, am I to assume you’ve had words with Narcissa?”

“I have. She cares not a fig about Lisa, or me, for that matter. But she’s afraid of our Lord. I explained to her that our Lord is right now deciding her fate. She was willing to do anything that would make amends for her rashness.”

“Even to go so far as turning a blind eye and deaf ear to the carryings-on between the two of you?”

Lisa sat, not speaking, not even looking at either one of them. Lucius frowned at Severus. “I thought I explained, Severus. It was not Lisa’s doing.” He looked back at Lisa. “I wish I could take it all back, Lisa. You never should have been subjected to Narcissa’s rage, or my advances. It won’t happen again.”

“I believe you,” she answered simply, looking at Lucius for a long moment. Lucius held her gaze, and Severus suddenly wished he’d never come into the room. He still didn’t know if he could trust Lisa in her affections, and it would be a cold day in hell when he’d be able to trust Malfoy.

“So, Lisa,” Severus said, pulling up a chair. “You’ve said all along you were seeking answers from Malfoy. Why don’t you simply ask him your questions directly? He seems willing enough to talk now.”

Lucius seemed not to notice the barbs in Severus’ tone and he turned to Lisa. “Anything I can help clear up, Lisa. Surely you’re not afraid to ask me?”

She shot a look at Severus, but he didn’t know what she was thinking. She looked back to Lucius, and asked him what she must have been thinking about since she’d found out about his possible connections with Nott. “What do you know about what happened the night my mother was killed?”

Lucius smiled sadly. “I had hoped you would never know I was aware of anything like that,” he said. “I’m not proud of my associations with Nott. But back then...”

He gathered his blond hair into his fist and shot it back over his shoulder, and it looked to Severus that he was giving himself time to think.

“Nott had long been going to America, to work his way into the folds of dark circles there. Nott, as you know now, is your mother’s brother, and that’s how he met your father.

“Your father and Nott shared similar interests, but only up to a point. Nott became convinced that you would one day be instrumental in our Lord’s plans to dominate the wizarding world. Your mother never really liked Raymond’s involvement with the Dark Arts, but she tolerated it. It could be that she doubted it would ever amount to much.

“But when Nott began to teach you his ideas, Linda took steps to keep you away from him. That caused problems between your parents, because your father, at the time, wasn’t aware of Nott’s plans. They used to have rows about it, and each time they argued, Nott would become more and more cheerful. He tried to drive them apart, because his sister was of no use to him. Without her influence, Nott was sure Raymond would come around to his way of thinking. And if he could get you in the bargain, all the better.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes, but otherwise listened silently. Severus didn’t move a muscle, afraid that any distraction would prevent Lucius from telling the full story.

“Things came to a head one night, when Linda threatened to divorce Raymond. You see, they’d been married in a Muggle ceremony, not a wizard ritual. There was no Unbreakable Vow to worry about. All it would take was some Muggle paperwork, and they would be free to go their separate ways. Nott, realizing Linda would most assuredly take you with her, began demanding that she stop all her talk about divorce. It turned into a shouting match, from Nott’s description, and Linda ran out of the room, intent on grabbing you and escaping immediately.

“That’s apparently where you came in,” he said, taking her hand in his. Severus noted this with a sneer.

Lisa nodded slowly. “She tripped over me. I don’t remember what happened after that.”

“Nott killed her with the Killing Curse. He must have worried that you understood what was happening, so he used a Memory Charm on you. He was rather heavy-handed, he admitted, and probably wiped out more memories than he should have, but he needed you and your skills.”

“And the idea of using Lisa’s special skills never occurred to you, I suppose?” Severus glared at Lucius, daring him to make his excuses for being so attentive to Lisa. What Nott couldn’t accomplish with force, Malfoy would gain with persuasion. It had been what made the two such compatible partners-in-crime.

“No, Severus, they hadn’t.” He looked at Lisa. “Have I ever asked you about whatever skills you have? Have I ever steered our conversations to that subject?”

She shook her head. Lucius looked back at Severus, who simply looked away, as if the weather outside the window was of more interest.

“My father made it look like I killed my mother,” Lisa said, the pain still evident in her voice. “He put me away in foster homes so he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“He had to, Lisa,” Lucius said, reaching out and pushing her hair behind her ear. “He had to get you wrapped in layers of Muggle paperwork. It was the only way to prevent Nott from taking you from him. It would have been quite some trick for Nott to remove you from any of your caretakers. He couldn’t chance interfering with Muggles, and during the school year, you were protected from Dark wizards by the schools you attended. He was trying to keep you safe.

“Then he learned Nott was trying to kill him. If Nott had succeeded while you were still underage, then he could have petitioned Muggle courts for your custody. Your father began to research the Dark Arts, looking for a way to stop him, from a distance. That’s what led him to the effigy. I suspect you know all about that, don’t you?”

“I found his effigy.”

“I thought so, as soon as you asked me about them.”

“Does Nott know I had it?”

“I don’t know. He stopped confiding in me some years back. Does that mean you don’t have it any longer?”

“That’s right,” she answered. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“Your father charmed that effigy to represent Nott. When Nott found out, he tracked down Raymond and hexed him with a lethal curse. He had to kill Raymond before Raymond killed him. And he had to do it before you reached eighteen years old, so he could get custody of you.

“But things didn’t work out that way. Raymond was more skilled than Nott had suspected, and while Nott was weakening, you were growing up. It wasn’t until you were already old enough to decide your own fate that he was able to kill your father. Then, he couldn’t find you. He was planning to renew your memories of him somehow so you would join him here in England. He still had hopes of using your skills.”

“He must have been overjoyed when Lisa turned up at a revel, then.”

Lucius started. Clearly, he’d forgotten Severus was in the room. “Actually, he seemed upset to find that out. He wasn’t at the revel when Lisa first came to us; it was only later that he learned she was planning to take the Dark Mark. He seemed, to me at least, to want to prevent that from happening. I remember thinking it odd, because until that time, I’d assumed he still needed her. But perhaps our Lord wasn’t supposed to find out about her?” He turned to Lisa. “Lisa, I don’t know if you place any trust at all in me; I know Severus doesn’t. But what exactly are the skills that Nott is so keenly interested in?”

“Don’t say another word, Lisa!”

“Severus,” Lucius said, looking pained. “Those skills will be of little use to me anyway, wouldn’t they? Now that things are so out in the open? What treachery could I possibly use now that you’ll no doubt be keeping such a close eye on me?”

“You could give information to the wrong sources,” Severus said.

“Like who, Dumbledore?” He snorted through his patrician nose. Then he frowned thoughtfully. “Are you saying that our Lord doesn’t know of these skills?”

“He knows; he’s just not sure what worth they have,” Severus put in, making sure Lisa didn’t get a chance to answer. “But one has to wonder what worth they’ll be to Nott.”

“All right,” Lucius said, yielding. “I won’t push for an answer. But I warn you against revealing anything Nott doesn’t already know. There must be a reason he’s still worked up about Lisa, and I think he’d rather see her dead than using her skills, whatever they are, for our Lord’s services.”

“You think he’d try to kill me?” Lisa asked.

“Yes, I do. I’ve never known him to be so agitated about something.”

She sighed heavily. “So now I have to be careful of upsetting our Lord in any way, shape, or form, I can’t turn my back on Nott, and I still have Narcissa to contend with. I wonder where I left my passport?”

“Well,” Lucius said, rising and smiling. “At least you won’t have Narcissa to worry about anymore. We’ve come to an understanding. Even if she suffers no punishment from our Lord, she has to watch her step around me. You see, she and I were married in a wizard ceremony, and there is an Unbreakable Vow to contend with. I have grounds to divorce her with impunity, since she attacked me with a Dark Curse. According to wizarding law, I have every right to sever our ties, with her bearing the punishment that will be inflicted upon the severing of the marriage contract. This, in addition to losing her social standing, her wealth, and her son. I know how to use my clout, and she knows she can’t win. She’s very subdued.”

He bowed down to Lisa, kissing her hand in farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow, unless they release you to Madam Pomfrey’s care. If so, I hope you’ll keep in touch. I value your friendship immensely.”

She smiled at him, and he left the ward. Severus took notice of his leaving with only half his mind on Lucius’ parting words.

“Severus?”

He looked at her, biting his thumbnail in concentration.

“Did Albus mention to you anything about my release? They’re pretty tight-lipped around here.”

“No, I haven’t seen him. But they’ll want to keep you a while, at any rate. It was a very muddled hex that landed you here, and they don’t want to release you before they know you’re completely healed.”

He moved to the chair recently vacated by Malfoy. He scooted it closer to her bed, making sure he had her attention. “There seems to be more to that hex than we’d first thought,” he told her. “Malfoy was once very friendly with Nott; it stands to reason that Narcissa was, and probably still is, as well. I wonder if perhaps she was acting on Nott’s orders. After all, Lucius had paid a lot of attention to witches all the while he and Narcissa had been married. What made this liaison, or supposed liaison, so different? There are many hexes she could have sent your way. Why would she risk a Dark Curse?”

“Then why would she have told Lucius all he needed to know in order for it to be removed?”

“I think it’s because she fears Lord Voldemort more than she fears Nott. She’s still waiting to find out what he’ll do to her.”

“Why does he care?”

“Do you remember my telling you that he doesn’t wish his followers to practice the Dark Arts? Narcissa, without Lord Voldemort’s knowledge or consent, used Dark Magic to hex you. That alone would enrage him. Also, he cursed Malfoy with Cruciatus for giving her an excuse to do it.”

“Are you still upset with me because I went to see Lucius?”

“I’m upset that it caused you to wind up here,” he said heatedly. Knowing what she was really asking, he relented. “I know you’re not having an affair with him,” he said. “I apologize for being such an unreasonably jealous git.”

She laughed, the slightest bit of color coming into her pale cheeks. He looked across at the uneaten lunch. Turning back to her, he looked deeply into her green eyes. “Lisa, they’ll never let you leave unless you eat something. Will you at least try, when they bring your dinner tray in?”

“Yes, I might even be hungry by then. Anything to get out of here. But if they think I’m going to leave here just to put up with more medical stuff at Poppy Pomfrey’s hands, they’re delirious!”

“Perhaps if I can promise Albus that I will personally see to your needs...”

She looked up at him, and again he saw pain and uncertainty in her eyes. _Her eyes should never know those two things,_ he thought. He leaned closer, touching his lips to hers, waiting to see if she would move away from him.

She pulled him closer, entwining her hands behind his head and returning his kiss. He felt the relief of knowing that, once again, he narrowly missed ruining his life by shutting her out of it.


	21. The Ministry and the Monkey Wrench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfamiliar term used in this chapter:
> 
> Infectum Potion--A potion that would render other potions in one’s body useless; to make  
> impossible.

Chapter Twenty-one  
The Ministry and the Monkey-Wrench

Lord Voldemort paced back and forth within the circle of Death Eaters he’d gathered. Severus watched him, knowing the summons came because the Dark Lord had made a decision about Narcissa’s punishment. He waited, hoping Malfoy would get his wish in this. It was always difficult to witness someone being tortured, but even more so when he was personally acquainted with that someone.

“Nott, come forward!”

Severus relaxed slightly, thankful he wasn’t in Nott’s robes. Nott arrogantly strode up to the Dark Lord; he must have known his death was imminent, and this was one last swagger for old-time’s sake. He meant to go out with pride and dignity. _Good luck,_ thought Severus snidely.

“You have caused me considerable problems, Nott.”

“How so, my Lord?”

“Do you deny it was your actions that caused one of my servants to be unavailable to me right now? Did you know Lisa Carus is, at this moment, in the hospital, suffering at your hands?”

“Not I, my Lord. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Shall I call forth a witness, Nott?”

“I wish you would, my Lord.”

“Narcissa Malfoy!”

It was just as Severus had suspected. He watched nervously as Narcissa crept into the circle, her head bowed. “What was the last thing Nott said to you, Narcissa?”

“Just make sure she suffers, my Lord.”

“And who is ‘she’, Narcissa?”

“Lisa Carus.”

“Why did Nott want Lisa to suffer?”

“He wanted her brain addled so she would be of no value to you, my Lord.”

“Nott, do you deny Narcissa’s claims?”

“Yes, my Lord. She’s lying. I had nothing to do with any of this. Narcissa was upset with Lisa because Lisa was having an affair with Lucius. It had nothing to do with me.”

_So much for bravado,_ Severus thought.

“I don’t believe you, Nott. You’re a worse liar than you are a faithful servant. Crucio!”

Lord Voldemort was more enraged than had been apparent, Severus saw. The force of his curse sent Nott flying backward far enough that the Death Eaters quickly backed away from his flailing body, as if contact with him would spread the curse to themselves.

Nott was trying for valor, Severus could tell, but after several moments of twitching, the screams began to escape him, and the rest of the Death Eaters began fidgeting nervously. All except Bellatrix Lestrange, who seemed to be enjoying the show.

Ignoring the pleas for mercy, Lord Voldemort turned back to Narcissa. Severus tensed. “And for your part in this, Narcissa,” he began, “you are banned from my presence for the rest of this year. You will return when you next feel my summons, but I don’t know how you’ll be received; it depends upon my mood, and the reports of your behavior in the meantime. Do you remember what it was like to be a new recruit?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“That’s how you will be treated next year. I will leave punishment for your crime against Lisa Carus to your husband. And he will punish you adequately, or answer to me! Do you understand, Lucius?” he called out to the circle.

“Yes, my Lord,” came the distant answer.

Lord Voldemort waved his hand at her as if she were a pesky beetle, and she hurried back to the circle, not far from where Nott lay in a fetal position, pain wracking his tortured body. Severus fervently wished for an end to the screaming. His wish was answered.

“Avada Kedavra.” The words were spoken so quietly, Severus would bet Nott never heard them.

 

Lisa slept fitfully, tossing and turning. It was not so much sleep as it was her body’s escape. She was still in a great deal of pain--the lingering effects of Narcissa’s anger. Her head was aching, even as she tried to sleep, and as a result, her dreams were not pleasant.

Miriam Strout was making her rounds one last time before she left for the night. She was aware of Lisa’s illness, and that there wasn’t much she could do for her until a reversal of the hex was completed, but she hated to see any of her patients in distress. She wandered over, wondering if she should wake her or let her be.

She waved her wand at the lamp overhead, to better see what was happening. It seemed to be nothing more than a bad dream, and she smoothed her hand over Lisa’s brow, hoping it would calm her down. Lisa’s movements seemed to slow a little; Miriam moved her hand to Lisa’s shoulder, rubbing comfortingly, murmuring softly. She reached for Lisa’s wrist, intending to check her pulse, and she saw the ugly mark she knew could mean only one thing. This patient was a Death Eater. A Death Eater, in her ward!

She debated furiously. She’d been reprimanded several years ago for allowing a plant, a Devil’s Snare, into the ward. The plant had killed a patient, an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries, and St. Mungo’s was not very forgiving. It would take an order from the Ministry before she could reclaim her previous standing among the Healers. Ever since that horrible mistake, a mistake anyone could have made, she’d been treated as an aide; as someone who was qualified only to clean bedpans, and not much more.

A quick call to the Ministry could redeem her, she was sure. But to cause trouble for a patient in her care? Would that be against her medical ethics?

She glanced down once again at the vivid mark. Dropping Lisa’s hand, she turned and walked slowly out of the ward, returning five minutes later with a camera.

 

Severus headed up to the headmaster’s office to give his report about the revel. Before he’d even shut the door behind him, Albus waved him to the chair near the fireplace, taking one opposite. “We have trouble, Severus.”

“What now, Albus?”

“Lisa’s Dark Mark had been discovered by one of the Healers at St. Mungo’s. She was reported to the Ministry, and they’re hanging around her ward, waiting for her release so that they can arrest her.”

Severus was speechless. It never occurred to him that her Dark Mark would be found. But there had been no warning of the summons before it hit, and Lisa wouldn’t necessarily have had time to conceal it. “What can we do?”

“I’ve been speaking to Fudge, and he tells me St. Mungo’s will release her tomorrow. The hearing is already scheduled for Friday, at eight o’clock in the dungeon courts at the Ministry. He knows he can expect us as witnesses.”

“How are we going to explain this?”

“We have three days to think of something. What happened at the meeting tonight?”

“Nott is dead. Malfoy is to come up with some sort of punishment for Narcissa that will appease the Dark Lord. By the way, Narcissa is off the hook for these meetings for the rest of the year. I surmise that it’s supposed to be considered a punishment. But she’ll have to go back next year when he summons her. She’ll be treated like a new recruit. She won’t enjoy that.”

“I wonder what punishment Lucius has in mind for her? There must be some feelings still there, I should think?”

“It’s hard to determine, with Lucius. He was extremely agitated when he thought the Dark Lord was going to mete out her punishment himself. So you may be right.”

“And she’ll not be so quick to attack Lisa again?”

“No. I doubt Lisa has anything to worry about where Narcissa is concerned. Lucius has her right where he wants her. He’s threatened her with divorce, and without her husband, she has nothing she values. Not even Draco. Besides, she was acting on Nott’s orders.”

“Nott wanted Lisa cursed?”

“Yes. He wanted her to wind up like the Longbottoms, I suspect. I have to assume he knows about her ability to enter into dreams, and didn’t want the Dark Lord to learn about it.”

“Is Lucius aware of what Lisa can do?”

“No, Albus. It’s probably the one thing she never told him.”

“So, there’s no danger that this particular piece of information will find its way to Voldemort, then. Thank goodness for that, at least.”

“What possible explanation can we come up with for Lisa’s Dark Mark?”

“I’m wondering how it came to be that it was sighted.”

“When we’re summoned, we’re all summoned. The Dark Lord can, of course, alter his summons to exclude certain members of his ranks, but he must have forgotten about Lisa being indisposed.”

“But is the pain of the summons so great that she couldn’t conceal her mark?”

“It is intense when one refuses to answer the call, but I imagine it happened while she was asleep, or being examined by a Healer. Who found it, by the way?”

“Miriam Strout.”

“Miriam Strout...why does that name sound familiar to me?” Severus asked, his brows knitted in concentration.

“She was in the news several years ago, when Broderick Bode was killed at St. Mungo’s. Strout was the Healer who’d allowed the Devil’s Snare inside the ward.”

“And they didn’t sack her?”

“They believed it was a mistake. She’s still persona non grata around there, but her improved observation skills might induce the Ministry to put in a good word for her.”

“Can we use that old mistake to discredit her?”

“I think we should try. But it won’t be enough.”

“I believe, Headmaster, that our only chance is to lie through our teeth. I will prepare a potion at once that will negate any Veritaserum the Wizengamot Panel will undoubtedly force upon Lisa. Then, it’s just a matter of getting it to her before they can question her.”

“Does it matter if the potion you make is taken before or after the Veritaserum?”

“Not in the least. As long as it’s in her system, it will work. It has a life of approximately an hour. That’s longer than Veritaserum lasts. Even if they give her a second dose, she’ll be covered by the Infectum Potion.”

“Now, what do we say about the mark itself? And, do you think she’s already spoken to anyone from the Ministry? Has she already incriminated herself?”

“Not likely, Albus. She is one witch who knows how to keep a secret. Is she allowed visitors?”

“Probably not, but let’s give it a try anyway.”

 

Severus leaned against the wall of the chamber, waiting for the dementors to bring in their prisoner. He eyed the chains on the witness chair distastefully, hoping they wouldn’t engage when she sat there. As Lisa had never registered herself with the Ministry regarding her skill in wandless magic, chances were good that they wouldn’t engage the chains. He glanced over at the assembly of the wizards and witches that made up the Wizengamot Panel. Albus didn’t join them, as he would be testifying on behalf of Lisa when the time came.

He stuck his hand in his pocket again, toying with the vial he kept there. It held the Infectum Potion, and he hoped Lisa would be on her toes when Albus created his diversion. Everything counted on Lisa’s being able to figure out what they were doing very, very quickly. They hadn’t had the chance to see her before now.

He ventured nearer to the front of the chamber, close to where Lisa would appear. If he failed, they would risk riling the dementors, and they’d be lucky to come out of this with their sanity intact.

As the Panel members importantly shuffled their quills and parchments, Albus nodded to Severus. He looked toward the back door, watching it open to admit two dementors, then Lisa, followed by two more dementors.

He pretended to lose his sense of decorum, and moved toward her quickly; at the same time, Albus stealthily turned loose the Catherine Wheel in the chamber. As wizards, witches, and dementors alike scrambled to veer out of its path, Severus took Lisa’s hand in greeting, switching the vial over to her. Startled as she was, she palmed it, squeezing his hand in gratitude.

He turned to take a seat in the witness row, joining Albus, who waved his hand to allow the wheel to dissolve. No one seemed to have noticed the meeting between Severus and Lisa. She sat down, holding her fist near her mouth to cover her sudden fit of coughing. The chains remained on the floor.

Severus watched in dismay as Fudge ran to her, yelling out in protest. “Here, here now! What’s that you have in your hand?”

Lisa pretended innocence, opening her hands to show they were empty. Severus could feel his chest swell with pride at her skill. He knew they’d find no trace of the vial. She looked to him, smiling slightly. She’d taken the potion.

He concentrated, using Legilimency to tell her not to worry about taking Veritaserum. She nodded once, pretending to look down, letting him know she understood. He probed deeper, wanting to know if she’d said anything at all to anyone about her mark. He couldn’t find anything there, but she seemed to know what he was looking for. He felt her probing into his mind, and dimly remembered that she’d shown a propensity for Legilimency once upon a time.

He concentrated on divining her message. She’d not spoken to anyone. He focused, trying to tell her what he and Albus planned, but couldn’t do it. The hearing was starting, and both he and Lisa were forced to follow the proceedings.

“Dumbledore,” Fudge began, smoothing down his hair, all flustered. “I know that was one of your tricks. I’ll thank you to treat this hearing with more respect. This is a serious matter.”

“A thousand apologies, Cornelius. A poor attempt to lighten things a little. When we’ve finished here, I think everyone will have no doubt that this entire matter is a simple misunderstanding, and none of us would wish any hard feelings.”

“That remains to be seen.” Turning to the front, Fudge addressed Lisa. “Miss Carus, you’ve been brought before the Wizengamot Panel based upon the evidence witnessed by Miriam Strout, a Healer working at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, to wit: the specific mark that is on record as being unique to followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the bearers of that mark are known as Death Eaters. Miss Carus, please be so kind as to reveal your left arm to us now.”

Lisa pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, showing the Interrogators her arm. It was blemish-free. “Like I said, a terrible misunderstanding,” began Albus, rising.

“Not so fast, Albus! According to some of our investigations, it has been reported that the mark only lasts a short while. Luckily, Miss Strout had the foresight to take a photograph of that mark, and we will present this photograph into evidence now. Madam Marchbanks, if you would, please.”

A witch to Fudge’s left stood up and handed over a photo, which Fudge waved his wand over to enlarge it so all in the chamber could see it against the north wall. It showed Lisa, restless during her sleep, then someone’s hand, presumably Miriam Strout’s, hold down her wrist so that the Dark Mark was plain to see. It was vivid, and Severus let out his breath slowly. There would be no mistaking what the mark meant.

Smugly, Fudge turned to Albus. “Do you deny that it’s the very same brand our convicted Death Eaters wore?”

“I’m not so sure, Cornelius. It does, in fact, look remarkably similar. However, upon closer inspection, I think you’ll find slight differences. Please look again.”

They all viewed the incriminating photograph again, seeing nothing they hadn’t seen a few seconds earlier.

“I see no difference, Dumbledore. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I personally am not as familiar with the tattoo as you are, Cornelius,” said Albus. “But there is something definitely different about it. I can’t put my finger on it. But that’s easily understood, when you realize the mark had been branded into Miss Carus’ arm several years ago, in America. A different Dark wizard -- a different mark.”

“America!”

“Yes, Cornelius. Did you not know Miss Carus is American?”

“Yes, but the mark is from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”

“Actually, I don’t believe the Americans are quite as shy as we are about naming him. Look in your records. You’ll find his name is Whitcomb, and he’s the one responsible for that mark on Miss Carus’ arm.”

Wordlessly, Adrian Penmore, Interrogator, handed Fudge a manila folder, and while Fudge angrily paged through the parchments held within, Lisa shared a look with Severus. He probed into her mind, concentrating on a mental picture of a young girl being forced to take the mark, her father holding her arm in place.

Fudge threw aside the folder. “Bring the Veritaserum! We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Turning to Albus, he spat, “It doesn’t matter where she took the mark! Dark Magic is Dark Magic!”

Dolores Umbridge waddled over to Lisa, a vial of potion in hand, and dug her long nails into Lisa’s face, forcing her mouth open. Once the potion had been administered, Umbridge turned to reclaim her place on the Panel amid snickers and, in one case, a loud chuckle. She turned, instantly aware that she’d been made the butt of a joke, but not knowing what the joke was.

Fudge whispered to her, and she pulled a mirror from her robes, looking anxiously into it. She let out a shriek, and took her green face out of the chamber, her rolls of fat bouncing all around her in her haste. Severus let his laughter escape, catching Lisa’s eye and winking. Perhaps in the future, Umbridge wouldn’t be so quick to use excessive force to administer potions.

“We will address that problem forthwith, but in the meantime, I think we’d better have the chains,” Fudge said, and instantly, the chains surrounding Lisa’s chair attached themselves to Lisa’s wrists and ankles. The levity of the moment ceased instantly, and Fudge once again began his questioning.

“Where did you take the mark, Miss Carus?”

“In Washington, D.C.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“My father forced me to take it.”

“Your father? How old were you when this happened?”

“My memory is kind of unclear exactly,” she prevaricated. “I had to be about eleven or twelve years old.”

“And why did he force you?”

“Because I wasn’t willing.”

“But you attended dark revels, is that right?”

“Only until I could get away from my father’s custody.”

“And when did that happen?”

“At twelve years old.”

Albus cut in. “I think you’ll find, according to the records you have before you, Cornelius, that Lisa had been removed from her father’s home at twelve, to be raised by Muggles. It was the last time she’d seen her father, or...”

“That’ll be enough, Dumbledore! Let the witch speak for herself!”

Albus sat quietly, not put out at all by the reprimand.

“Do you deny ever having attended any dark revels here in England?”

“Yes, I deny it.”

“Are you a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

“No.”

“But the mark only burns when Death Eaters are summoned to him. Your mark was clearly active while this photograph was taken!”

“I don’t doubt it. But as I was in pain anyway, I guess I just didn’t notice it.”

“So you _were_ being summoned!”

“I have been summoned repeatedly since I was twelve years old,” she explained. “I never answered the summons once I had left my father’s house. But I can’t get rid of the mark, any more than anyone else could who had abandoned that particular faith.”

Albus stood. “Cornelius, surely you must realize that you can’t logically prosecute someone who never voluntarily took part in rituals you want to accuse her of? All this was done before she’d reached the age of consent; as soon as she could, she stopped. If you’re going to prosecute anyone, it should be her father.”

“Yes, quite.” Fudge didn’t seem to care who sat in the chair with the chains, as long as this hearing resulted in an arrest. “Miss Carus, where can I find your father?”

“You’d need a pick-axe and a blow-torch,” she said laconically. “He’s entombed in a vault in D.C.”

Fudge sighed, tossing his parchments into the air above the bench. He waved the dementors away, and they left through the rear door of the chamber. The wizards and witches of the Panel began disassembling, and Fudge declared the hearing over, all charges dropped.

Severus cornered Fudge as he was leaving. “Minister, I wonder if you might not want to look more closely into Strout’s claim. After all, she seems to fancy herself quite an expert on Dark Marks, and she was only too eager to offer up an innocent witch to Azkaban. What might her true motive be, do you think?”

“You can believe I’ll look into it, Snape. By the way,” he continued, narrowing his eyes, “I don’t suppose you’d care to show your arm to me?” Severus curled his lip and revealed his bare left arm. No sign of a mark.

“Well, I suppose it will have faded, much like Miss Carus’ mark did.”

“Do you suppose Lord Voldemort calls forth his followers at the same time Whitcomb calls his? You know, it used to bother me that the Ministry never believed my allegiance to Albus Dumbledore. But that was when I was young and impressionable. Over the years I’ve come to know you lot that run the Ministry, and I find I don’t value your opinions at all.”

Fudge had no answer for that, and Severus forced himself to allow him to pass without tripping him. Lisa came forward to meet him. She embraced him, holding him tight, whispering in his ear, “Thank you.”

He returned her embrace. “How are you feeling, after all this?” he asked. “Azkaban is no place to recover from injury or illness.”

“I’m much better now.” Albus joined them, and Lisa wrapped her arms around his neck, thanking him as well. The old wizard seemed flustered, but returned the hug, patting her back comfortingly.

“Well, we can’t have the best thing that’s happened to our History of Magic classes unable to come back to us. Binns already has his heart set on leaving.”

She groaned. “Oh, no, I forgot! I have about twenty exams to grade; they’ll be waiting for the final reports for grade cards. I have some serious catching up to do.”

“They’re not due until the end of the month,” Albus assured her. “You could probably do with a few days off to completely recover from your recent troubles. I suggest a day in Diagon Alley, where you can order the books you’ll need for the coming year, and then spend the rest of the day pampering yourself. In fact, that’s what I order you to do. I don’t even want to see you at your desk for at least another three days.”

“Sure, okay, twist my arm.”

Merlin, was there no mercy in this world? With all that had happened, Severus was near the breaking point. The continual bouts of jealousy because of Malfoy’s friendship with Lisa...the constant worry about Lisa and all the trouble she could find...Narcissa’s rage...and now, again, the slight tingling of his left arm. He knew by now it meant he alone was being summoned. He just didn’t know where he’d find the will to carry on. To get past the Dark Lord’s mental probing, the vile things he wanted Severus for, the sick hatred he felt for himself afterward.

As the tingling began to give way to actual pain, he blanked out his mind and prepared to answer the call.

 

Upon arriving in the Dark Lord’s sitting room, he was afraid to fill himself with hope. The last time he’d come here to answer the ‘special’ summons, he’d been Apparated directly to the bedroom. He forced his mind clear, and knelt to kiss the hem of the Dark Wizard’s robes.

Voldemort bade him sit, and he accepted the firewhisky offered to him. Sipping it gratefully, he looked up at the other wizard, waiting to see why he’d been called.

“I understand Lisa is recovered?”

“More or less, my Lord. She’s out of the hospital, but is still trying to regain her strength. Narcissa really meant business when she’d hexed her.”

“And the trouble with the Ministry? I trust everything worked out well?”

“Yes, my Lord. It was touch and go there for a while, but Albus believed her story about having received the branding in America while still a child. And, because Albus believed it, so did the Panel.”

“But I understood them to use Veritaserum.”

The Dark Lord’s source was thorough. Severus wondered who it was.

“I had slipped her a vial of Infectum Potion, which completely nullified the Veritaserum. She was able to lie quite convincingly.”

“A good skill to have. I was quite disturbed to discover my weakness in forgetting to change her brand so that my summons would not affect her. If not for that, the Ministry would not now have her down in their books as someone worth watching. We really don’t need that sort of annoyance.”

Had he ever, in his entire association with this wizard, heard any admission of failure? Of forgetfulness? _Am I really turning out to be his confidante?_

“As a matter of fact, I found myself feeling so bad for adding to Lisa’s troubles that I offered her a choice of leaving my ranks. I’m happy to say, she opted to stay. She seemed hurt that I would ask.”

Severus, after a moment, forced himself to breathe again, and slowly set his glass down on the side table. Forcing his first thoughts to the far reaches of his mind, he looked up at the Dark Lord. “Am I to understand that you asked her to leave your ranks? She refused?”

“Yes, my friend. She refused.”

Worried that Lord Voldemort would realize what he was thinking, Severus scrambled to respond. “Is there something troubling you about Lisa, my Lord? Are you doubting her loyalties?”

“No, especially not now, Severus. She could have walked away, and chose not to.”

“I see. I have never known you to ask someone to leave before. I worried that she was in disfavor with you, and as her mentor, it would upset me that there might be a problem with her I wasn’t aware of.”

“It’s nothing like that, Severus. I think you did very well, bringing her to me. I salute you!” He raised his glass, then drank from it.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Well, Severus, I just wanted to tell you that. I sometimes feel you don’t value yourself as much as I value you. So rest assured, I’m most happy with you. I feel I can place my trust in you to the highest degree. There’s no one else I feel I can say that about.”

“Thank you, my Lord. May I die before ever disappointing you.”

He took his leave shortly afterward, relieved to know the Dark Lord wasn’t in an amorous mood, yet nearly catatonic in the knowledge that Lisa had her chance for escape, but chose not to take it. She’d been lying all along. She felt no more loyalty to the Order than he felt to Lord Voldemort.

He returned to Hogwarts, taking great pains to avoid meeting anyone. He wanted to kill someone, and he wasn’t at all sure he could control the impulse.


	22. What Lisa's Father Foretold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfamiliar term used in this chapter:
> 
> Infligo--To strike.

Chapter Twenty-two  
What Lisa’s Father Foretold

Severus crossed an ankle over his opposite knee, rubbing away an imaginary scuff mark on the heel of his boot. He’d just finished giving Albus his report. All he’d told Albus was that the Dark Lord was checking into Lisa’s condition. He hadn’t mentioned the offer Lisa had decided to refuse. He was debating whether he should add it, when Albus spoke again.

“And you’re sure it was Lucius who told him of Lisa’s hearing?”

“No, Albus, I’m not. We shouldn’t assume Lucius was the only one with knowledge of what had happened who also has the Dark Lord’s ear. I still don’t know about Miriam Strout.”

“But why would she turn in a fellow Death Eater to the Ministry?”

“To convince them she has nothing to do with Lord Voldemort. She could still be trying to quell the rumors about her knowingly allowing Bode to be killed by that plant she’d allowed him to have.”

“True, but wouldn’t Voldemort have punished her for informing the Ministry of Lisa’s involvement?”

“Possibly. I believe it was Malfoy who’d told him, but I don’t want to overlook anyone, either.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to ask a few of the Order members who are Aurors to keep a closer eye on her.”

“I don’t think it would hurt.”

“Was there anything else?”

After a brief mental wrestling match, Severus said, “No, Albus.”

“Then I expect I’ll see you at dinner? You’ll be in the Great Hall tonight, I hope. I know several of the staff are waiting to welcome Lisa back, and it will probably turn into a celebration. The end of the term, the beginning of the holidays, and Lisa’s recovery. You’ll be missed if you don’t show.”

He looked quickly at the headmaster, wondering if the ambivalence he was feeling toward Lisa showed. “Of course, Headmaster.”

“Excellent. Until then.”

Severus left the office, his steps taking him automatically down toward his dungeon rooms. His mind was far away and so he didn’t notice Lisa waiting for him on the main floor until he’d almost bumped into her.

“Where were you just now?” she asked him, smiling. “I’ve called your name three times. Are you intentionally ignoring me?”

“If only that were possible,” he said dryly. “You’ve finished with Diagon Alley?”

“Yes.” She looked carefully into his eyes, and he knew she was trying to figure out if he was upset with her or not. He moved past her, bowing as he went, knowing she no longer had any doubt as to how he felt. He just didn’t have the energy for words right now.

“Severus?”

He kept walking. When he heard her running to catch up, he stopped resignedly.

“What’s wrong now?” she asked in that annoyingly direct manner he should be used to by now. He looked deeply into her green eyes that questioned him, and he felt his energy hit a new low. Putting his hands gently on her shoulders, he stretched out a thumb to trace the line of her jaw.

“Lisa...there are so many times...ever since I first met you...I felt as though I didn’t know you at all; that I never would. And right now, I don’t want to. I don’t think I’ll ever want to know you again.”

Pushing her slightly away from him, he again moved past her to descend the stairs into the bowels of the castle, knowing she wouldn’t follow him.

He closed the door of his rooms behind himself, and leaned back against it, staring at the floor. He stayed there all through the dinner hour, and didn’t acknowledge the kitchen-elf who’d come by to ask if he wanted a tray delivered. As the darkness of night enveloped his rooms, he was still standing there.

 

Severus sat still, his eyes on his empty fireplace, yet seeing nothing; his mind touched on nothing in particular. It was fast becoming a way of life with him; the blank stare, his inability to focus. For the last three weeks, he’d had to tell himself to move, actually forming the words in his mind to eat, to dress, to sleep. Every routine, every automatic action had suddenly become a major project for him.

He had managed to finish grading all the essays his students had submitted for their final examinations, and his reports and grades had all been entered into the headmaster’s logs so the final reports could be prepared for the students’ records. He knew he had to get away for the summer, or he’d never be fit to teach the fall term.

All he waited for was the annual summons. Granted, he had been summoned more times in this past year than in the last five years in total. But the summons that was now due was the traditional meeting for the Death Eaters. Once he got through that, he’d be free to leave until it was time to return to prepare for the new school year.

He knew he could be summoned at any time during the holidays, but it would be easy enough to report to Dumbledore without staying on at the castle. He planned to go to his ancestral home, possibly begin to restore it. He’d last been there when he was trying to figure out the secrets of Lisa’s effigy...

He forced his mind away from those thoughts, worried that he’d be back to square one. It had taken him three weeks to get to the point where he could function normally again. He hadn’t seen her during that time, except two or three times at a distance. He didn’t seek her out, and if their eyes happened to meet, he looked away quickly, lest she get the idea he welcomed a chat with her.

So deep in his musings was he that he didn’t hear the owl pecking at his window until the scratching noises continued, even after he stopped his fingers from worrying the upholstery of the armchair. He stretched out his stiff muscles, heading to the window to let the owl in with its message. He recognized the elegant penmanship of Lucius Malfoy, and could guess what the message asked. He briefly debated throwing it away without reading it first, but Malfoy could be unpredictable. Perhaps he’d better read it after all.

_Severus,_  
I hope this note finds you in good health. I can’t seem to  
reach Lisa; she is all right, isn’t she? It’s not like her to  
ignore my correspondence.  
Due to her recent illness at the hands of my dear wife, I  
am worried that a full recovery is still to come. Perhaps there  
is something more Narcissa could do? She has sworn to me  
that she did all she could to help reverse the hex, and I’ve no  
reason to doubt her, things being as they are. She wouldn’t dare  
to lie to me these days. But if there is something she or I may  
have overlooked, please contact me immediately.  
If I may exploit our friendship to ask a favor, would you  
please be so kind as to give a message to Lisa? Explain to her  
that everything has been successfully put in place, and she can  
retrieve her parcel any time after the 3rd, July. She’ll know  
what it means.  
I expect I shall see you and Lisa both soon, as it’s that  
time of year again.  
Until then, I remain,  
Yours,  
Lucius 

It was just like Malfoy to refer to forbidden topics in written form. The man was so incredibly arrogant. The parcel Lisa was to retrieve from somewhere was, no doubt, crammed full of the Darkest magic. Why else would Malfoy be involved with it?

Wondering if he should now warn Albus of Lisa’s true loyalties, he worried that she would actually dare to bring into Hogwarts anything dripping of Dark magic. Whatever she had purchased was bound to cause harm to at least some of the more curious students who might find it.

He decided to compromise, and made plans to reinforce the shields around the castle that would sound an alert when Dark magic was present.

But curiosity drove him to find Lisa and hand Malfoy’s letter over to her. He found her in the library, browsing, of course, in the Restricted Section. Probably trying to decide what books she wanted to assign her incoming students.

He quietly approached her, looking over her shoulder to see if he could see what she was reading. She looked up when he blocked her light source.

“Severus!”

“Good afternoon, Lisa. I have been reduced to playing messenger boy for you.” Without another word, he tossed Malfoy’s letter down on her open book. She looked at it briefly, but turned to look up at him almost immediately.

“You know about...you were told about that offer?”

“Yes. I don’t want to discuss it.” Still, he remained. Why, he couldn’t say.

“I thought it was just a test, Severus. Has he ever released anyone in the past?”

“You could have at least told him you’d think about it before throwing away the only chance you had for a normal life!”

“He was waiting for my answer. Even hesitating could have been detrimental for me.” As she was speaking, he took in her features. There were hollows in her cheeks, and her complexion was pale. Her hair had lost the shine that once invited his fingers to touch it. Her lips looked dry and she’d been spending a lot of time biting them. He looked away, knowing he could do nothing to give her back her appetite, or enable her to sleep. She’d created her own hell, and only she could learn to live in it.

“From the tone of that letter, it seems as though Malfoy is expecting an answer. I will leave you to it.” He left her there, knowing they’d just had the last personal conversation they’d ever share. As he crossed through the doors of the library, he felt as though he was crossing over a bridge that burned behind him. Not surprisingly, he felt nothing.

 

As Severus stood beneath the warm night’s sky, he was grateful for the new robes. They were much lighter than the old ones, and that counted for a lot when one considered how long they’d stand in the summer night, waiting for the meeting to commence. And when suffering from the pain of the Dark Lord’s rages, the old robes seemed torture unto themselves, being so coarse and heavy.

He saw Malfoy approaching, and as he was still not quite used to seeing the phenomenon, he watched the gold colors in the robes swirl with each of the other wizard’s steps. It truly was an improvement, he decided. He’d never seen such robes before, and it was too bad they were being used for such dark meetings. He would have liked to have something like this in his formal wardrobe.

“Where’s Lisa?” he asked Severus. “She’s not still ill, is she?” Severus detected a markedly worried tone to Malfoy’s voice, and he envied the wizard his ability to care.

“Hadn’t she answered your letter? I gave it to her the same day you sent it.”

“She answered it, but she didn’t say much. She claimed to be fine, and she planned to pick up her parcel the following Saturday. Did she? And is she all right?”

“I don’t know what she does with her Saturdays, Lucius. And, as far as I know, she’s well.”

Malfoy looked sharply at him. “You two aren’t getting along, are you?”

“It’s not a question of getting along, Lucius,” he answered. “We simply don’t have all that much in common these days. I don’t see the need to be her protector, any more than I see a need to be her mentor. She’s an independent witch, as I’m sure you know.”

“I realize you had never approved of my friendship with her, Severus,” Malfoy replied. “But I thought we’d cleared the air on that score.”

Severus was spared having to answer, as Lisa Apparated to the field, and Malfoy left Severus to meet her. They were too far away for Severus to hear what was said, but clearly, Malfoy took offense at Lisa’s appearance. He watched as Lisa waved Malfoy away, not wishing to discuss her health with him. She headed for Lord Voldemort to greet him.

Having been given permission to rise, she stood up, and losing her balance, she bumped into Malfoy. He caught her and set her on her feet, and she began walking rapidly toward Severus while Malfoy knelt to greet the Dark Lord.

His knew his face was hidden behind the golden mask, and he covertly watched her as she took her place in the circle next to him. She really didn’t look at all that well. No wonder Malfoy was upset. But did he really expect Severus to be her babysitter?

Glancing at Lisa as he found his way to his own spot, Malfoy did indeed look worried. _There is a reason for the mask, Malfoy. Hide what you’re thinking, or Lord Voldemort will use it!_ He saw Malfoy donning the mask as he turned to face the center of the circle. A few more wizards straggled in, paid their respects to the Dark Lord, and the meeting was begun.

Since there had been so many meetings this past year, there was not much new to learn from the Dark Lord, or to report. The formalities of the revel soon over, the socializing began, and Severus hoped it wouldn’t turn into something debauched. He had no stomach for anything untoward tonight.

Before he could make his escape, Malfoy was once again at Lisa’s side, his hand on her shoulder. He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. With the noise of the other Death Eaters too near, Severus couldn’t follow a word. He looked up with dread to see the Dark Lord approaching.

“Lucius!”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“I want details of the punishment you’ve meted out to Narcissa. I’m sure Lisa would like to hear as well, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

“Not particularly, my Lord. I would much rather pretend the entire incident was just a figment of my imagination.”

_What the bloody hell was she doing? She wasn’t to speak to him!_

“And have you learned nothing from me yet, my young and sassy servant? Infligo!”

Lisa let out a surprised yelp, and she flew backward to fall to the foot of a tree behind her. As Malfoy turned to rush to her, he was stopped by Lord Voldemort’s words.

“Lucius, I believe I asked you what Narcissa’s punishment was?”

Throwing one last worried look Lisa’s way, he faced Lord Voldemort. “Yes, my Lord. I have placed her under the tutelage of my house-elves. They are teaching her to clean and cook.”

“You consider that punishment enough, do you?”

“Yes, my Lord, I do. Narcissa has never cleaned a dinner plate in her life; never swept a floor; never so much as boiled a kettle of water for tea. She’d been raised with house-elves to cater to her every whim. For her to be reduced to the meanest of domestic servants, and to take orders from houseelves... she’s a changed witch, my Lord.”

“Yes, I can see it now. This lesson will no doubt stay longer with her than anything more painful. How is she taking it?”

“Meekly, my Lord. She is truly sorry for having gotten involved with Nott, especially as she now realizes that her assumption about my involvement with Lisa was simply a misunderstanding.”

“Not for lack of trying, Lucius.”

“You know me too well, my Lord.”

They all looked toward Lisa, and Severus was dismayed to find that she hadn’t moved. He looked back at Lord Voldemort, disconcerted to find the Dark Wizard frowning. “It was only a striking spell,” he murmured, more to himself than to Lucius or Severus. “Why doesn’t she move?”

“My Lord?” Lucius was torn between rushing to her side and trying not to incur the Dark Lord’s wrath. At Lord Voldemort’s nod, Lucius bounded after Lisa, with Severus following behind. The Dark Lord stayed where he was.

As they neared her, Severus could hear that she was struggling to breathe. He pulled Lucius away, bending and carefully moving his hands over her, trying to find where she was injured.

“Why an Infligo?” Malfoy whispered. “Why not the usual Cruciatus?”

“Would you rather see her suffer from Cruciatus when she’s this frail?” he hissed back.

“In her condition, one is just as bad as the other,” Lucius argued.

“Her ribs are broken again,” Severus sighed. “And it sounds like he punctured a lung. She’s in extreme distress. We have to get her out of here.”

“Again? When had they been broken? Narcissa didn’t do that.”

“She’d broken her ribs a while back. It had nothing to do with any of this,” he answered, gesturing around him. “Let’s see if we can cut our presence here short.”

Malfoy approached Lord Voldemort. Severus heard him explain Lisa’s injuries to him, and blew out of sigh of relief at the Dark Lord’s answer. He carefully picked her up, wondering how they were going to Disapparate with his hands full.

“I’ll get us all to the forest near Hogwarts’ gates,” Malfoy told him. “Then I’ll take my leave. You’ll be able to take it from there? Lose your robes, and hers?”

“Yes, fine.”

Placing his hand on Severus’ shoulder, Lucius waved his wand. Lisa moaned, and Severus cursed himself for inflicting more pain on her damaged ribs. He’d grasped her hard as the swirling sensation of Disapparation hit him, and he was worried about the sounds she was making as she tried to breathe. How long could she last like this, getting only a fraction of the oxygen she needed?

Once they were in the forest, he gently lay Lisa on the ground while he whipped off his robe, reversing it to show only solid black. He used his wand to transfigure Lisa’s robes and he put both their masks into his pocket. All this to appease Malfoy, who believed Dumbledore had no idea what his teachers did with their free time.

As he picked Lisa up once again and headed through the gates, he could hear the pop of Lucius Disapparating.


	23. To Sleep No More

Chapter Twenty-three  
To Sleep No More

He didn’t want to enter the ward; the last thing he needed was for Lisa to think he cared. He opened the door only as far as he needed to in order to see her bed. She was sitting up, aimlessly waving her hands to Transfigure the flowers and cards on her side table to cups, books, salt shakers, and an assortment of other household items. She didn’t handle boredom well.

He moved to the other door, opening it far enough to see that Poppy was hiding in her office. He grinned wryly, knowing that Lisa wouldn’t be an easy patient.

Satisfied that his part in all this was finished, he moved away from the ward, heading down to his rooms. He’d told Albus he was leaving; he didn’t expect to be back until the middle of August. His schedule was posted for the fall term; his books and other supplies ordered. He was home free, as long as the Dark Lord would leave him alone for a while.

He planned to begin the arduous task of getting his home back to livable conditions, and he would need to find a house-elf or two who would keep things in order during his absence. He looked around the rooms, already seeing more things he would need to take with him. As he began reducing them, he realized that he was in a hurry to get away. Far away from Lisa, before he could weaken and go to her. It was a matter of self-preservation.

Albus still didn’t know about her, but Severus was sure she was in no condition to cause any problems for the Order. He planned to come clean about her when he returned. He could spend the summer planning what he would say to Albus; after that, the matter was entirely up to the headmaster and the Order. He could wash his hands of her.

After taking one final look around, he headed for the door. Just before he reached it, someone knocked. _Five more minutes,_ he thought, _and I would have been clear of this madhouse._

Upon opening the door and seeing Lisa standing there, he was struck speechless. Hadn’t he just seen her in the hospital ward?

“Lisa, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the infirmary.”

“Poppy’s not big enough to hold me there,” she replied. He noticed the large package she held, wrapped in brown paper. “Can I come in?”

He wordlessly held open the door and permitted her to enter, against his better judgment. She turned, handing him the package. It was roughly twenty by twenty inches, and flat. A portrait of some kind, he assumed.

“Lisa, I was just on my way out. What is this?”

“It’s a gift to you from me,” she said. “I won’t keep you long. I wanted to explain why I’m still a Death Eater.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Albus needs to be told you were offered a chance for escape that you didn’t take. You’d do yourself a favor to tell him yourself.”

“I did. But, Severus--”

He held up his hand to stop her words. “Lisa, I can’t emphasize enough how much I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here in my rooms; I don’t want to see you around the school; I don’t want to remember you. At all. I regret ever having made your acquaintance. Now please leave. You’re delaying me.”

“Severus, please don’t turn me away...not now. I need you.”

“You’ve made it clear exactly what you seek, Lisa. I can’t keep trying to save you from yourself. There’s no hope for you.”

Her emotions were almost palpable as she stood, stunned, letting the truth of his words hit her hard. He was glad he couldn’t see her eyes as she walked past him back to the corridor of the dungeons. Closing the door behind her, he leaned the package against the wall, hoping it would disappear by August.

Wanting to give her enough time to have cleared the corridor, he went into the kitchenette to pour himself a drink. As he sipped it, his eyes fell on the package she’d left him. Curiosity overtaking his restraint, he took out his wand, passing it over the package to make sure it didn’t contain any Dark magic. Satisfied, he used his wand again to tear apart the paper packaging.

It was a portrait. Her portrait. He stared at it, hypnotized by the vivid photography, the life in her eyes. She’d been happy when she sat for it, and it was before her nerves had begun to fail her. It was a portrayal of the witch he’d fallen for, and he squeezed shut his eyes against the laughter in hers.

Opening them again, he stared as she winked at him, pursing her lips in a kiss. He heard singing. Her soft voice, singing a sad song. It was compelling, and he concentrated, wondering where it came from. His windows were closed in preparation for his leaving, and it didn’t sound as though it were coming from the corridor. He looked at the portrait again. There. It was coming from the portrait.

_Aloha `oe, aloha `oe_  
E ke onaona noho i ka lipo.  
One fond embrace,  
A ho`i a`e au  
Until we meet again. 

It dawned on Severus that he’d seen this sort of work in the past. Lucius Malfoy had two such portraits in his mansion that had been charmed to sing. So that was the meaning of the letter Malfoy had sent mentioning that everything was in place and ready for her to pick up. He’d been helping her with the charm.

Between the sadness of the song, which depressed him, and the realization that he’d only found the worst to fear between Lucius and Lisa, he was in no mood for doing anything anymore. He grabbed the portrait in both hands, and, turning quickly, he released it, sending it flying across the room, where it crashed into the bookshelf. The corner of the shelf ripped through the backing, shattering the glass that covered the photograph and cutting right through Lisa’s smiling face, and he felt a dim measure of satisfaction. He morosely threw himself down on his sofa, rubbing his temples.

He didn’t know how long he’d sat there, his mind having taken him back to his lessons with Lisa. To the times they’d shared, and the troubles they’d faced. She’d been in pain, thinking her father hadn’t wanted either her or her mother. She had spent the majority of her life searching for the reason her father had hated her so.

By the time she’d found out the truth, she was in too deep to back out. And the Dark Lord’s unpredictable behavior hadn’t helped matters any. When he’d relented and offered her a way out of his own clutches, she’d insisted on staying, afraid to fail his test.

What, really, had her crimes been? Had he forgotten what it had felt like to be so unsure, so unloved?

He ran his hand over his face, hating himself for having been so self-centered. It seemed like whenever she’d needed him the most, he’d abandoned her. And then condemned her for carrying on alone, making the wrong decisions. And who was to say the Dark Lord’s willingness to release her wasn’t a test, as she’d suspected? Didn’t it make more sense that way? When had he ever willingly released any of his followers from their promises? No doubt Severus would have made the same decision.

Forcing himself to stand, he pushed away from the sofa and headed for the bathroom to splash cool water over his face. Upon returning to the sitting room, he caught sight of the destroyed photograph. Remorseful, he began gathering up the glass shards and moving them closer to the frame, hoping he hadn’t destroyed her gift beyond repair. Waving his wand over the portrait, he mumbled, “Reparo.”

The photograph bonded itself back together, the glass reversing until it flew back into place within the frame. He examined it closely, saddened to see the slightest permanent damage on the photo, where it looked like a scar coming from her eyebrow, down across her eyelid, and then disappearing. She didn’t seem to mind it, and smiled her thanks, apparently happy that he’d repaired her.

He held it out at arm’s length, deciding the scar wouldn’t show unless one was looking for it. Looking around his rooms, he decided it would hang much better in his bedroom, which might well have been where she’d pictured it hanging. He felt a warm glow, as well as a profound sadness, at hearing once more the song she’d charmed into the photograph. _Farewell to Thee_ , as it translated. He frowned. Had she known when she’d used the charm that she was saying good-bye to him? Was he already too late to make up for his stupidity?

He laid the photo down on his bed, intending to hang it later that evening. He’d already decided he would delay his trip south until he could smooth things over with Lisa. Perhaps she’d even agree to meet him there later, when he’d had a chance to tend to the house a little.

Having decided it was high time he went to Lisa, he was just leaving his rooms when Minerva came running, out-of-breath, down the stairs to the corridor. “Severus,” she said, almost running into him before she could stop her momentum. “Severus, come quick!”

He at once began to run for the stairs, but she grabbed his arm, holding him fast. “No, don’t go!”

What was this fool witch talking about? Was he to go or not?

“Oh, Severus...” she panted. “You can’t go. You need to know, but don’t go...”

“Minerva! Calm down and tell me what’s going on!”

“It’s Lisa! She’s...no, Severus, don’t go! Wait!”

He forced himself to lean against the wall, waiting her out. She took a deep breath, finally calming down enough to speak.

“Lisa Carus has thrown herself off the tower, Severus. She’s...oh, my dear Merlin...Severus, she’s... _dead.”_


	24. Epilogue

Epilogue

Severus looked up into the dazzling blue sky from his seat on the wall of the Astronomy Tower. It wasn’t right that it should be such a beautiful day when Lisa couldn’t be out in it. She would have appreciated it.

He’d come up here because he had an insatiable and urgent need to feel close to her. He needed to feel her presence, but if she was up here, she was too tenuous to help him. He shifted, leaning into the frame of the tower at his back, and bringing up his right leg so that his knee hovered over the edge of the parapet. He bent his left leg so he could set his foot flat on the make-shift seat, his knee balanced unsteadily upright. A little better. His rear would grow numb, no doubt, but it eased the aching muscles of his back. A good, strong wind might allow him to join Lisa, but there didn’t seem to be much of a breeze today anyway.

He’d tried desperately to dream of her. He never knew the limits of her magic; she, ever the keeper of secrets, had never felt the need to show off her skills. For all he knew, she’d be able to enter dreams more easily now than while she’d been alive.

But he had yet to have a single dream like the one she’d provided him with, only that once. He closed his eyes, putting himself back into that dream. She’d taught him to fly. He could feel once more the surge within him as he’d jumped into the air, as he’d kept going until his natural fear had caused him to stop.

His eyes opened abruptly when he realized that the surge he’d just now felt was a signal that he’d come close to falling off the tower. Was that the only way he’d ever see her again?

He allowed his mind to drift back to the funeral. It had been two weeks ago today, here on the grounds of Hogwarts. Most of the students had come in for the services, disrupting their holiday to pay their last respects to the teacher they’d only just begun to know. Some of the more besotted and recently-promoted first years had wept openly. As did Binns. Severus numbly wondered if that was because his plans to travel other lands had been put on hold until Albus could find another replacement.

He’d met David Danford, the sleep disorder psychiatrist for whom Lisa had worked during her university years. He’d been the only American who’d been in attendance, Lisa having neglected to keep in contact with the few friends she’d had before joining Hogwarts’ staff. Clearly, he’d been told of Lisa’s death by Albus.

Severus had still been too stunned over her death to say much, and Danford had been too verbose to complain, so Severus had been regaled with many stories of the people who could now sleep peacefully at night, thanks to Lisa. The stories had been wondrous and incredible, yet none of those former patients knew their savior was about to be burned in her coffin. Severus would bet that most of them wouldn’t even have remembered her name.

She hadn’t helped for the glory. In fact, according to Danford, she’d been adamant that her name never appear in his reports, or even in his research notes. She’d been known only as Jane Doe, assistant to Dr. Danford.

“Why was she so insistent about that?” Severus had asked.

“None of us could figure out how it was possible,” Danford had answered. “She was afraid if people were to find out what she could do, she’d be considered abnormal.”

Now Severus remembered how upset she’d been at Lupin’s insensitive comments at the Order meeting, and how she’d mocked herself as a freak. All she had wanted, probably all her life, had been to be normal. But such was not to be her fate. It must have been a heavy weight to carry, knowing ‘normal’ was beyond her reach. And yet she knew how to enjoy herself. She hadn’t been afraid to face life, no matter how frightening it would become. And it had become rather frightening for her recently.

And what had he done to help her? Nothing. He’d managed to teach her nothing, in spite of Albus’ confidence that he would be able to do so. What skills she had, she had come to him with. She’d counted on his protection from the world she had insisted on entering. He couldn’t protect her. He’d pulled her in even deeper, but she’d never held it against him. She’d just made the most of it, even turning it around into something good. He forcibly turned away from the memory of the revel that first made him aware she had wanted him, and their later tryst in the portrait-room.

What sort of mentor had he been, anyway? Instead of guiding her along the proper paths she needed, he had aided and abetted her attempts to delve further into the Dark Arts. The corruption of her soul would be his burden to bear.

But was her soul really corrupted? She’d not actually practiced any Dark magic. He’d done at least that much for her. Her interests in it were only to find the answers that would help still the pain in her heart at her father’s betrayal, and her feelings of unworthiness.

She’d never hurt anyone that he was aware of. When he had first heard of Narcissa’s attack on her, he’d wondered why she hadn’t defended herself. He knew what she was capable of. And yet, she had refrained from hurting Narcissa. Was it because she knew Narcissa was acting on Nott’s orders? Or had she simply been taken by surprise? After all, she had been dealing with Malfoy’s aggressive advances at the time.

And what about Malfoy? She hadn’t denounced him; she’d befriended him. The changes that had occurred in Malfoy could be laid directly at her feet. The wizard was actually a human being now, with the humility that had once been lacking. He wasn’t nearly as arrogant as he’d once been, although it could be that his grief was still too fresh and painful.

Lucius had attended the funeral. Severus had noticed that his normally glacier-blue eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been crying or drinking. Either reason, Severus knew, was because Lisa was no longer here to be his only real friend. Severus felt ashamed that he’d never nurtured a serious friendship with Malfoy. He’d been too full of suspicions and distrust, and he couldn’t say now, with any degree of honesty, that he’d ever given Malfoy a chance.

And Malfoy had been more help to Lisa than he himself had ever been. It had been Malfoy who had pointed her in the right direction to charm that portrait, he knew. Perhaps it had been Malfoy himself who had placed the charm. The memory of the sad words and music played in his mind again, causing his eyes to burn with unshed tears.

He turned to see who was encroaching upon his solitude. A timid-looking, yet determined house-elf stood on the floor beneath Severus’ perch, bowing.

“What do you want?” he asked harshly.

“Please forgive Meemee, Professor Snape, for the intrusion,” came the answer. “But Professor Dumbledore has sent Meemee to search for Professor Snape. Meemee is to convince Professor Snape that Professor Snape is hungry, and that Professor Snape would like to come to the Great Hall for a delicious dinner, sir.”

“Go away.”

“Please, Professor Snape, Meemee wishes...”

She never completed the sentence. Severus aimed his wand and murmured, “Procella.” The softly spoken hex and his disinterested intentions ensured that it was the mildest of spells, but the elf squealed and scooted back through the doors and down the stairway to safety.

He knew there would be hell to pay from Albus once the headmaster learned Severus had sent a hex out to an innocent house-elf, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The old wizard had undoubtedly worried that Severus fully intended to throw himself off this same tower in his grief. But Severus had no thoughts along those lines. He simply wanted to be left alone to think. And where better?

He couldn’t stay in his rooms where the photograph, now hanging on his bedroom wall, would mock him. The sound of her tearful song rang constantly in his ears, although the charm only came into play when one first gazed upon the portrait. The rest of the time, it played in his head.

He groaned inwardly at the sound of heavier footsteps climbing the stairs. He turned to see who else dared to invade his privacy, and was surprised to see the white-blond hair of Malfoy appear through the doorway.

“Severus,” he said softly. “Dumbledore told me I would find you here. You’re rather perilously perched, are you not? It won’t work, you know. She’s already moved on.”

“Malfoy,” he answered, ignoring the careless jibe. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

“I find I’m not very good at keeping things locked inside,” Lucius admitted. “I had hoped that I could speak to you about Lisa. I’ve never had to cope with anything like this before, and I don’t quite know how to deal with it.”

Severus, nonplussed, considered Malfoy’s words. “You’ve never dealt with death? Have you been living in a vacuum?”

“As a matter of fact, I have been. I loved her, Severus. I’ve never loved any other woman before, and I’m not sure this pain will ever go away.”

“You’d better not let Narcissa hear you say that.”

“I would have left Narcissa for Lisa, and damn the consequences. I rather thought that if she didn’t love you, she and I might have...she did love you, you know. I understand you had some doubts about that, but surely, now you know better.”

He couldn’t answer that. Even if he had the answer, he couldn’t have confided his feelings to Malfoy. To anyone. Except Lisa.

“I can see the answer in your expression, Severus. Have you opened her gift, yet? Were you aware that most of the time you were condemning her for studying the forbidden arts, she was actually learning about things like that charm?”

“I can hear her song, even now, up here,” Severus said.

“I sometimes wonder if she knew she was going to die,” Malfoy mused. “It seems to me that she was searching for freedom. And she is finally free, Severus. You can see that, can’t you?” He put his hand on Severus’ shoulder, waiting until the darker man looked at him.

“Death is the ultimate freedom.”

Malfoy turned and left the tower, and Severus turned the words over in his mind. She couldn’t have planned suicide while sitting for that photo, he knew. She’d been too happy, the light in her eyes showing up clearly through the lens of the photographer.

But why, then, did she choose that particular song for her charm? _Until we meet again._

Struck by an idea that he cursed for taking so long to come to mind, he almost fell off his perch in his haste to return to his rooms. Entering, he concentrated as the charm engaged, filling his room with her sweet voice. _Aloha oe. Farewell to thee._ But the word also meant welcome, didn’t it? Was she leaving him hints?

He studied her eyes, telling himself it was just his imagination that made them look so alive. He moved his wand slowly over the surface of the glass, watching the wand’s tip carefully. The faint blue glow was characteristic for the charm that held the song, but he was looking for additional clues now.

Her image watched silently from behind the glass, her eyes following the wand in its movements. There! A brighter blue glowed as his wand neared her heart. There was another charm, a stronger charm, placed on this photograph. But how to learn what that charm was? Malfoy would know about it, he was sure. He was also sure that Malfoy’s latest words to him spoke of it.

_Death is the ultimate freedom._

He sat on the foot of his bed, staring at her teasing green eyes, wondering how to proceed.

 

He’d fallen asleep where he sat, falling backward with exhaustion. He’d stared, thinking for untold hours, no nearer to divining Lisa’s secret than he’d been at the start. His leg jerked in his sleep, and he fought against awakening.

“Severus?”

He mumbled something incoherent, rolling over and trying to pull his legs up from the floor, where they’d been dangling.

“Severus!”

He groaned, opening his eyes and pulling himself up closer to his pillows.

“Severus! Wake up!”

“I _am_ awake,” he muttered, looking around the dark room. Who the hell dared disturb him now?

“For crying out loud, you’re not still upset with me for a lousy mistake, are you?”

He knew that voice. He bolted upright in his bed, straining his eyes to see across the room. Reaching for his wand, he whispered, “Lumos.”

Looking at her photograph, he waited for his mind to leave him completely. She smiled at him. “I missed you,” she said simply.

“Why have you never spoken to me these past couple of weeks, then? You must have heard all I said to you.”

“I couldn’t. After death, there’s something that happens...I don’t fully understand it, but I wasn’t ready to return yet. Now I am.”

“I know paintings hold the spirit of their subjects, but I didn’t know a photograph could.”

“That’s because you hadn’t found the charm I found.”

“So, I can speak to you like this all the time? As if you were a painting?”

“At least. There’s a lot more to that charm than you know.”

“For instance?” He could hardly believe she was once again with him. He moved closer, not daring to analyze what was happening. If he woke up and found he had just been dreaming, he knew his mind would snap once and for all.

“Unlike the average painting, I can actually pull you into this frame. I’m corporeal.”

He knew he must be dreaming. But before he lost his mind completely, he planned to explore every possibility. He stood, slowly moving closer to the wall, closer to her. To his surprise, her arm reached out from the confines of the photo and touched his face. He could feel her, could smell her fragrance. Her hand was warm, and he covered it with his, pressing it to his face, closing his eyes against his torment. He’d taken her so much for granted.

“Concentrate, Severus. Come to me.”

He opened his eyes, frowning. Was it possible? Could he really...

He grasped her hand, and he felt the pull that was common when one entered into another dimension. It was the same, whether Disapparating, falling into a Pensieve, or, as he was learning, entering a photograph.

Then he was there. He pulled her into his arms, holding tight, burying his face in her hair, loving the familiar scent of her shampoo. He moved his hands all over her, recognizing the familiar body, memories flooding him as her hands moved over him.

He gasped, the sob escaping him before he could stop it. He felt the wetness of his tears on his face; the tears he couldn’t release before now. They’d been burning holes in his soul from the moment he’d learned what she’d done. He took a deep breath, no longer feeling the unyielding granite of the rock he’d thought had replaced his heart.

As he felt the softness of her hands on his face, wiping away the tears, he looked into her eyes—the bottomless pools of green that still held so many mysteries. She touched her lips to his, and he kissed her, tangling his fingers in her hair, tasting again the sweetness of her mouth, moving his seeking lips across the line of her jaw and down.

“Ah, Lisa,” he murmured against her neck, “I don’t want to wake up. If this is a dream, let me just stay asleep forever.”

“It’s no dream, Severus,” she answered breathlessly. “You’re already awake.”

He pulled back from her, his hands on her hips. He looked around, seeing nothing but whiteness. “So you’re telling me that this is the world of photography? Wizard photography? It’s kind of a magic in itself, isn’t it?”

She waved her hand at the area around them, and the bed he knew from her room was suddenly there, as well as her bedroom window, the same carpeting. She’d brought her Hogwarts’ bed chamber into the portrait.

“Just think of this photo as another Room of Requirement.” She smiled up at him, and he could see the dimple at the corner of her lips. It was really her. He could savor the moment, and stop worrying that he would wake up.

“Forgive me, Lisa.”

“For what?”

“For never being there when you needed me.”

“I didn’t know what I needed, Severus. And none of that matters now.”

She pulled him with her as she backed up until she could get on the bed. Kneeling upright, she began working the buttons on his shirt, moving tantalizingly slowly, smiling when he put his hands firmly down along his legs to prevent rushing her.

With each button undone, she kissed his chest, and his hands refused to stay at his sides. Cradling her head, his fingers in her hair, he breathed out her name. When she began to tease his nipple, he sighed, feeling himself throb in response.

It had been too long since he’d made love with her, and he ripped his shirt off, tossing the shreds to the floor. She at once attacked his belt, and he let her; it just felt so good to feel her pulling on his belt, knowing his physical freedom would follow shortly.

She worked open his fly, and he let his trousers fall to his feet. He sat on the bed to pull off his boots and socks, kicking away his trousers. She rose, standing before him and pushing him until he lay back on the bed. She backed up, keeping her eyes on his as she reached up and began to unbutton her jacket, pulling it open to show him her lacy white bra beneath it.

He could see how hard her nipples were, could see her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She was excited by the show she was putting on for him, and his cock twitched in response.

She tossed the jacket away, and thrust out her breasts at him as she reached behind her to unzip her skirt. Swaying her hips back and forth to encourage the material to fall away to the floor, she stepped out of it, picking it up with one foot to toss it aside. She wasn’t wearing stockings, and she lifted one foot behind her other leg to remove her shoe. Stepping out of other shoe, she approached the bed, where Severus was gripping the sheets under him, every muscle tensed, his cock throbbing achingly.

She reached again behind her back, and he saw her bra fall away from her breasts. She carelessly threw it off to the side, bending to remove her lacy panties. She smiled as she came back to the bed, putting one knee on it and leaning over him, kissing his waiting lips. Pushing on his shoulders to position him flat on the bed, she threw her other leg over his hips, pinning him down. He moved his hands up her smooth legs to her hips, pulling her down firmly to his. She moved, catching his imprisoned hardness directly under her, and he moaned at the hot wetness between her legs. She used that lubrication to slide up and down the length of him; not allowing him to enter her, but trapping him under her and teasing him to madness.

She reached behind, and he felt her lifting his balls, massaging them, teasing his thighs with feather-light touches of her nails dragging across his flesh. He gasped, pulling her close, his mouth on her breast, his tongue and teeth teasing her nipple. He molded and shaped her other breast with his hand. Each of her moans caused a surge of an almost electric current to shoot into his cock.

He smoothed his hand down across her stomach, lower, delving into the heat he found there. He rubbed his thumb up and down, spreading further the wetness, teasing the hardened nub until she began to buck her hips uncontrollably. He ground his thumb harder, and she called out his name, her hands on his shoulders and clawing at him. Oh, to hear her again begging him for release; to hear what he made her feel...

She was panting, too stunned to continue her teasing, and he shifted until he could lay her down under him. He moved over her, pressing his body to hers, imprinting her shape on the bed. She opened up to wrap her legs around his hips, her hand reaching down to guide him into her. As he slowly pushed in, he felt her tighten up around him, almost as though trying to keep him out.

As he pressed his body close to hers, loving the way her nipples were so hard against his chest, he felt her rock her hips, pulling him in deeper; oh sweet gods...it was the same...this remembered ecstasy was driving him beyond reason. He could feel every muscle inside her gripping him; he could feel her every contour massaging the sensitive head of his cock as he became one with her.

He pushed until his balls were pressed against her bottom, stopping to savor the sensation, groaning as her muscles milked him; she was so impatient, so eager for him. He withdrew slowly, almost completely, torturing himself, knowing his self-discipline wouldn’t last much longer.

“Severus...please...don’t make me wait...”

He closed his eyes as her words, her voice, her passion made a mockery of his control. He waited for the surge she’d caused in him to dissipate slightly, then plunged quickly and deeply into her heat, and was rewarded with her encouragement yelled into his ear, her hands gripping him to her.

He thrust again and again, his mind entirely focused on what they were feeling. He was aware of her every movement, her every twitch, and even his own hoarse gasping and moaning were spurring him on. He made love to her with his entire body, and she matched his rhythm as they rocked together, striving for the climax they had both needed.

He felt her heat increase, could feel the new rush of electricity flowing through her into him just before she clenched around him like a fist. He cried out her name as his body became a frenzied, bucking instrument, pushing into her deeper than he would have thought possible, convulsing as he emptied himself into her quivering tightness. He collapsed on top of her; his struggle to catch his breath sounded hoarse to his ears.

Forcing himself up, at least enough so he wasn’t crushing her, he looked into her eyes, unspeakably moved at the love he found there. There were no words to describe how he felt, but as she lifted her hands to his face, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him close so she could kiss him, he knew he’d never feel it for anyone but her.

 

He awoke slowly, basking in the warmth that can only come from sharing a bed with a lover. So, it hadn’t all been a dream. It hadn’t been the last vestiges of sanity slipping away from him. He opened his eyes, looking at the witch lying half across him in what looked like her room, her golden hair tousled from sleep and his hands running through it.

She must have felt him awaken, and she slowly lifted her head until she could smile into his eyes. “Albus is going to have a cow when he can’t find you, Severus. He has no way of knowing where you are.”

“I don’t want him to know,” he answered. “This is too special to share with anyone else.”

She touched his face, tracing the contours with her fingers. “I’m here for as long as you keep me,” she told him. “I love you. I will pull you into this photo whenever you allow yourself to be pulled in.”

“If I were to hang this photo somewhere else, would you still be able to do that?”

“As long as you’re there with me, I can.”

“How would you like to go away with me for a couple of weeks?”

She grinned. “Just reduce me and stick me in your pocket, Severus. I’ll be with you wherever you go.”

He kissed her, making a mental note to learn the charm she’d used. If he were to follow up on it, he was sure he could find a way to leave his image behind in this portrait with her, so that in the event of his own death, they’d still be together.

Malfoy had been right; death really was the ultimate freedom.


End file.
